The Geneva ballad To the tune of 48. Butler, Samuel, 1612-1680. 1674 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A30741 Wing B6291C ESTC R205888 99825376 99825376 29757 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A30741) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 29757) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1756:05; 21241:87) The Geneva ballad To the tune of 48. Butler, Samuel, 1612-1680. 1 sheet ([1] p.) printed for Henry Brome, at the Gun at the west-end of St. Pauls, London : MDCLXXIV. [1674] Attributed to Samuel Butler. Verse - "Of all the factions in the town,". A variant of the edition with "printed for R. Cutler" in imprint. L (Luttrell) Copy identified as Wing (2nd ed.) G517 on UMI microfilm set "Early English books, 1641-1700", reel 2124.1. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery (reel 1756) and the British Library (reel 2124.1). Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. Great Britain -- Religion -- 17th century -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. 2002-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-04 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-05 TCP Staff (Oxford) Sampled and proofread 2002-05 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The GENEVA BALLAD . To the Tune of 48. OF all the Factions in the Town , Mov'd by French Springs or Flemish Wheels , None treads Religion upside down , Or tears Pretences out at heels , Like Splay-mouth with his brace of Caps Whose Conscience might be scan'd perhaps By the Dimensions of his Chaps . He whom the Sisters so adore , Counting his Actions all Divine , Who when the Spirit hints , can roar , And if occasion serves can whine ; Nay he can bellow , bray or bark . Was ever sike a Beuk-larn'd Clerk , That speaks all Lingua's of the Ark. To draw in Proselytes like Bees , With pleasing Twang he tones his Prose , He gives his Hand-kerchief a squeez , And draws John Calvin through his Nose . Motive on Motive he obtrudes , With Slip-stocking Similitudes , Eight Uses more , and so concludes . When Monarchy began to bleed , And Treason had a fine new name ; When Thames was balderdash'd with Tweed , And Pulpits did like Beacons flame ; When Jeroboam's Calves were rear'd , And Laud was neither lov'd nor fear'd , This Gospel-Comet first appear'd . Soon his unhallowed Fingers strip'd His Sov'reign Liege of Power and Land , And having smote his Master , slip'd His Sword into his Fellows hand . But he that wears his Eyes may note , Oftimes the Butcher binds a Goat , And leaves his Boy to cut her Throat . Poor England felt his Fury then Out-weigh'd Queen Mary's many grains ; His very Preaching slew more men , Than Bonner's Faggots , Stakes and Chains . With Dog-star Zeal and Lungs like Boreas , He fought and taught ; and what 's notorious , Destroy'd his Lord to make him Glorious . Yet drew for King and Parlement . As if the Wind could stand North-South ; Broke Moses's Law with blest intent , Murther'd and then he wip'd his mouth . Oblivion alters not his case , Nor Clemency nor Acts of Grace Can blanch an Aethiopian's Face . Ripe for Rebellion he begins To rally up the Saints in swarms , He bauls aloud , Sirs , leave your Sins , But whispers , Boys , stand to your Arms , Thus he 's grown insolently rude , Thinking his Gods can't be subdu'd , Money , I mean , and Multitude . Magistrates he regards no more Than St. George or the Kings of Colen ; Vowing he 'l not conform before The Old-wives wind their Dead in Woollen . He calls the Bishop , Grey-beard Goff , And makes his Power as mere a Scoff , As Dagon , when his Hands were off . Hark! how he opens with full Cry ! Halloo my Hearts , beware of ROME . Cowards that are afraid to die Thus make domestick Broils at home . How quietly Great CHARLES might reign , Would all these Hot-spurs cross the Main , And preach down Popery in Spain . The starry Rule of Heaven is fixt , There 's no Dissension in the Sky : And can there be a Mean betwixt Confusion and Conformity ? A Place divided never thrives : 'T is bad where Hornets dwell in Hives , But worse where Children play with Knives . I would as soon turn back to Mass , Or change my Phrase to Thee and Thou ; Let the Pope ride me like an Ass , And his Priests milk me like a Cow : As buckle to Smectymnuan Laws , The bad effects o' th' Good Old Cause , That have Dove's Plumes , but Vultur's Claws . For 't was the Haly Kirk that nurs'd The Brownists and the Ranters Crew ; Foul Errors motly Vesture first Was Oaded in a Northern Blue . And what 's th' Enthusiastick breed , Or men of Knipperdoling's Creed , But Cov'nanters run up to seed ? Yet they all cry , they love the King , And make boast of their Innocence : There cannot be so vile a thing , But may be colour'd with Pretence . Yet when all 's said , one thing I 'll swear , No Subject like th' old Cavalier , No Traitor like Jack — . LONDON : Printed for Henry Brome , at the Gun at the West-end of St. Pauls Church-yard . MDCLXXIV .