Chapter 8

They who in _Amazia_'s favour grew, Themselves obnoxious to the People knew. Some were accused by the _Sanhedrim_, Most Friends and Allies to _Eliakim_: For his Succession eagerly they strove, And him, the rising Sun, adore and love. When _Doeg_, who with _Egypt_ did combine, And to enslave _Judea_ did designe, Accus'd of Treason by the _Sanhedrim_, Kept in the Tower of _Jerusalem_; The Object prov'd of fickle Fortunes sport, And lost the Honours he possest at Court. _Elam_ in favour grew, out stript by none, And seem'd a Prop to _Amazia_'s Throne. He had in foreign parts been sent to School, And did in _Doeg_'s place the Kings thin Treasure rule. He to _Eliakim_ was neer alli'd; What greater parts could he possess beside? For the wise _Jews_ believ'd the King did run Some hazard, if he prov'd his Father's Son. But now, alas! th' Exchequer was grown poor, The Coffers empty, which did once run o're. The bounteous King had been so very kind, That little Treasure he had left behind. _Elam_ had gotten with the empty Purse, For his dead Father's sake the Peoples Curse: For they believ'd that no great good could spring From one false to his Country and his King. _Jotham_ the fickle Shuttle-cock of Wit, Was bandied several ways to be made fit: Unconstant, he always for Honour tri'd, At last laid hold upon the rising side. If Wit he had, 'twas thought, by not a few, He a better thing did want, and Wisdom too. Then _Amiel_ would scarce give place to him, Who once the chief was of the _Sanhedrim_. He then appeared for the Crowns defence; But spoke his own, and not the Nations sense. And tho he praised was by _Shimei_'s Muse, The _Jews_ of many Crimes did him accuse. _Harim_, a man like a bow'd Ninepence bent, Had tried all the ways of Government: Was once a Rebel, and knew how to cant; Then turn'd a very Devil of a Saint: Peevish, morose, and some say, prov'd a fool, When o're the _Edomites_ he went to rule. When to his bent the King he could not bring, He fairly then went over to the King. Old _Amalack_, a man of cunning head, Once in the cursed School of Rebels bred; From thence his Maximes and his Knowledge drew, Of old known Arts how to enslave the _Jew_. For pardon'd Treason, thus sought to atone, Had wrong'd the Father, would misguide the Son. Once in Religion a strict _Pharisee_, To _Baal_'s then turn'd, or else of none was he. He long before seem'd to approve their Rites, Marrying his issue to the _Baalites_. A constant hunter after sordid Pelf; Was never just to any but himself: A very _Proteus_ in all shapes had been, And constant onely, and grown old in sin. To speak the best of _Amalack_ we can, A cunning Devil in the shape of Man. _Muppim_, a man of an huge working Pate, Not how to heal, but to embroil the State; Knew how to take the wrong, and leave the right; Was once himself a Rebel _Benjamite_. To that stiff Tribe he did a while give Law, And with his iron Yokes kept them in aw. The Tyrant _Zabed_ less did them provoke, And laid upon their necks a gentler Yoke. Amongst that Tribe he left an hated Name, And to _Jerusalem_ from thence he came, Where he tyrannick Arts sought to intrude, } To learn which, _Amazia_ was too good, } And better the _Jews_ temper understood. } Refus'd, the Serpent did with Woman joyn, And Counsels gave th'_Egyptian_ Concubine. _Adam_, first Monarch, fell between these two; What can't the Serpent and a Woman do? These with some more of the like size and sort, In _Sion_ made up _Amazia_'s Court: Whilst his best friends became these Rulers scorn, Saw how they drove, and did in silence mourn. _Sion_ did then no Sacrifice afford; _Gibbar_ had taught the frugal King to board. Void were its Cellars, Kitchins never hot, And all the Feasts of _Solomon_ forgot. Others there were, whose Names I shan't repeat; _Eliakim_ had friends both small and great: And many, who then for his Favour strove, With their hot heads, like furious _Jehu_, drove. Some Wits, some Witless, Warriors, Rich and Poor, Some who rich Clothes and empty Titles wore; Some who knew how to rail, some to accuse, And some who haunted Taverns and the Stews. Some roaring Bullies, who ran th'row the Town Crying, God damn 'um, they'd support the Crown: Whose wicked Oaths, and whose blasphemous Rant, Had quite put down the holy zealous Cant. Some were for War, and some on Mischief bent; And some who could, for gain, new Plots invent. Some Priests and Levites too among the rest, Such as knew how to blow the Trumpet best: Who with loud noise and cackling, cri'd like Geese, For Rites, for Temple, and for dearer Fleece. 'Twixt God and _Baal_, these Priests divided were; } Which did prevail, these greatly did not care; } But headlong drove, without or wit or fear. } The _Pharasees_ they curse, as Sons of _Cham,_ And all dissenting _Jews_ to Hell they damn. _Shimei_ the Poet Laureate of that Age, The falling Glory of the _Jewish_ Stage, Who scourg'd the Priest, and ridicul'd the Plot, Like common men must not be quite forgot. Sweet was the Muse that did his wit inspire, Had he not let his hackney Muse to hire: But variously his knowing Muse could sing, Could _Doeg_ praise, and could blaspheme the King: The bad make good, good bad, and bad make worse, Bless in Heroicks, and in Satyrs curse. _Shimei_ to _Zabed_'s praise could tune his Muse, And Princely _Azaria_ could abuse. _Zimri_ we know he had no cause to praise, Because he dub'd him with the name of _Bays_. Revenge on him did bitter Venome shed, Because he tore the Lawrel from his head; Because he durst with his proud Wit engage, And brought his Follies on the publick Stage. Tell me, _Apollo_, for I can't divine, Why Wives he curs'd, and prais'd the Concubine; Unless it were that he had led his life With a teeming Matron ere _she_ was a Wife: Or that it best with his dear Muse did sute, Who was for hire a very Prostitute. The rising Sun this Poets God did seem, Which made him tune's old Harp to praise _Eliakim_. _Bibbai_, whose name won't in Oblivion rot, For his great pains to hide the _Baalites_ Plot, Must be remembred here: A Scribe was he, Who daily damn'd in Prose the _Pharisee_. With the Sectarian _Jews_ he kept great stir; Did almost all, but his dear self, abhor. What his Religion was, no one could tell; And it was thought he knew himself not well: Yet Conscience did pretend, and did abuse, Under the notion of Sectarian _Jews_, All that he thought, or all that did but seem Foes to _Baal_'s Rites, _Eliakim_, and him. He was a man of a pernicious Wit For railing, biting, and for mischief fit: He never slept, yet ever in a Dream; Religion, Law, and State, was all his Theam. On these he wrote in _Earnest_ and in _Jeast_, Till he grew mad, and turn'd into a Beast, _Zattue_ his Zanie was, Buffoon, and Fool, Who turn'd Religion into Ridicule: Jeer'd at the Plot, did _Sanhedrims_ abuse, Mock'd Magistrates, damn'd all Sects of the _Jews_. Of little Manners, and of lesser Brains; Yet to embroil the State, took wondrous pains. In jeasting still his little Talent lay; At _Hushai_ scoft in's witless grinning way.

These with the rest, of every size and sort, } Strove to be thought Friends to the King and Court, } With lyes and railing, would the Crown support. } Then in a Pageant shew a Plot was made, And Law it self made War in Masquerade. But fools they were, not warn'd by former ill, By their own selves were circumvented still. They thought by Bloud to give the Kingdom ease; Physick'd the _Jews_ when they had no Disease. Contingent mischiefs these did not foresee, Against their Conscience fought, and God's Decree. What shall we think, when such, pretending good, Would build the Nations Peace on Innocent Blood? These would expose the People to the Sword Of each unbounded Arbitrary Lord. But their good Laws, by which they Right enjoy, The King nor could, nor ever would destroy. And tho he Judge be of what's fit and just, He own'd from Heaven, and from Man a Trust. Tho Laws to Kingly Power be a Band, They are not Slaves to those whom they command. The Power that God at first to _Adam_ gave, Was different far from what all Kings now have: He had no Law but Will; but all Kings now Are bound by Laws, as all Examples show. By Laws Kings first were made, and with intent Men to defend, by Heav'n's and Man's consent. God to the Crown the Regal Power did bring, And by Consent at first, Men chose their King. If Kings usurp'd a Power, by force did sway, The People by no Law were bound t'obey. This does not in the People place a Right To dissolve Soveraign sway by force or might. To Kings, by long succession, there is giv'n A native Right unto the Throne, by Heav'n: Who may not be run down by common Cry, For Vice, Oppression, and for Tyranny. But if that Kings the tyes of Laws do break, The People, without fault, have leave to speak; To shew their Grievances, and seek redress By lawful means, when Kings and Lords oppress. Tho they can't give and take, whene'r they please, And Kings allow'd to be God's Images. The Government you Tyranny must call, Where Subjects have no Right, and Kings have all. But if reciprocal a Right there be, Derived down unto Posteritie, That side's in fault, who th'other doth invade, By which soe'r at first the breach is made: For Innovation is a dangerous thing, Whether it comes from People or from King. To change Foundations which long Ages stood, Which have prov'd firm, unshaken, sound, and good, To pull all down, and cast the Frame anew, Is work for Rebels, and for Tyrants too.

Now what relief could _Amazia_ bring, Fatal indeed to be too good a King? Friends he had many, but them did not know, Or else made to believe they were not so: For all that did ill Ministers oppose, Were represented to him as his Foes. Yet there were many thousands in those days, Who _Amazia_ did both love and praise; Who for him daily pray'd, and wish'd his good, And for him would have spent both Coin and Bloud. Yet these, tho the more numerous, and the best, Were call'd but murmuring Traytors by the rest: By such who strain'd till they had crackt the string Of Government; lov'd Pow'r, and not the King These daily hightned _Amazia_'s fears, And thus they whisper'd to his Royal Ears:

Sir, it is time you now take up the Sword, And let your Subjects know you are their Lord. Goodness by Rebels won't be understood, And you are much too wonderful and good. The _Jews_, a moody, murmuring, stubborn Race, Grow worse by Favours, and rebel with Grace. Pamper'd they are, grown rich and fat with ease, Whom no good Monarch long could ever please. Freedom and Liberty pretend to want; That's still the cry, where they're on Mischief bent. Freedom is their Disease; and had they less, They would not be so ready to transgress. Give them but Liberty, let them alone, They shall not onely you, but God dethrone. Remember, Sir, how your good Father fell; It was his goodness made them first rebel. And now the very self-same tract they tread, To reach your Crown, and then take off your head. A senseless Plot they stumbl'd on, or made, To make you of th'old _Canaanites_ afraid. Still when they mean the Nation to enthral, With heavie Clamour they cry out on _Baal_. But these hot Zealots who _Baal_'s Idols curse, Bow to their own more ugly far and worse. _Baal_ would but rob some Jewels from your Crown, But these would Monarchy itself pull down: Both Church and State they'l not reform by Halves, Pull down the Temple, and set up their Calves. You, and your Priests, they would turn out to Graze, Nor would they let you smell a Sacrifize, Those pious Offerings which Priests lasie made, To Rebels, should, instead of God be paid. How to the Prey these factious _Jews_ do run! From you by art they have debauch'd your Son; That little subtle Instrument of Hell, Worse than to _David_ was _Achitophel_, The young Man tutors, sends him through the Land, That he the peoples minds may understand; That he, with winning Charms, might court the _Jew_, And draw your fickle Subjects hearts from you. Alas! already they of you Complain. And are grown sick of your too peaceful Reign, Their Lusts grown high, they are debauch'd with Grace, And like unfrozen Snakes fly in your Face. These men who now pretend to give you Law, Stood of the Tyrant _Zabed_'s power in awe; He made them crouch who scorn'd a Prince's sway, And forc'd them, like dull slaves, his power obey. Of _Israel_, and of _Juda_'s Tribe you spring, A Lion is the Ensign of a King, Rouse up your self, in mildness sleep no more, And make them tremble at your princely roar: Appear like _Jove_ with Thunder in your hand, And let the Slaves your power understand; Strike but the sinning Princes Down to Hell, The rest will worship you, and ne'r rebel.

Thus these rash Men with their bad Counsels strove, To turn to hate good _Amazia_'s Love. A Prince to Mercy naturally inclin'd, } Not apt to fear, nor of a Jealous Mind, } Thought no Man e'r against his Life design'd, } But these with Art did dangers represent, And Plots they fram'd the People never meant. Each Mole hill they a Mountain did create, And sought to fright him with his Fathers Fate. _Hushai_ at last was to a Prison sent, As a false Traitor to the Government. Loud murmurs then possest the troubled _Jews_, Who were surprised at the fatal News; His Wisdom they believed their chief support, Against the evil Instruments at Court; Nor, by his Actions, did they ever find, He bore a Trait'rous, or a factious Mind: And now they thought themselves expos'd to all The Arts, and Plots of the hid friends to _Baal_. Troubled, and discontented, at the last, Their Eyes upon the noble Prince they cast. Who fearing lest their discontent and rage, Should them, to some rebellious Crime ingage, Both for his Fathers, and his Countries sake, The murmuring People sought more calm to make. With a sweet Air, and with a graceful look, He did command their silence, e'er he spoke. Then thus he said, and though his words were few, They fell like Manna, or the Hony Dew;

My Country-men, Let not your discontent Draw you to actions you will soon repent, What e'er your fears and jealousies may be, Let them not break the bonds of Loyalty. I dare, and you may too, my Father trust, For he's so merciful, so good, so just, That he of no mans Life will make a Prey, Or take it in an Arbitrary way, To Heav'n, and to the King submit your cause, Who never will infringe your ancient Laws; But if he should an evil Action do, To run to Arms, 'tis no pretence for you. The King is Judge of what is just and fit, And if he judge amiss you must submit, Tho griev'd you must your constant duty pay, And your Redress seek in a lawful way. _Hushai_ tho he of Treason be accus'd, Such loyal precepts in my soul infus'd, That I the hazard of my life will run, Rather than prove my self a Rebel Son. Our Foes, have sought to' infect my Father's mind, To think, you to Rebellion are inclin'd: To stir you to Rebellion is their aim, And they are mad, to see you justly tame. Upon your Heads, they fain would lay their sin, 'Tis War they seek, but would have you begin: Pretence they want, who for the King do seem, To bring in, and set up _Eliakim_. I am afraid the _Baalites_ cursed Plot, By many laught at, and by most forgot, Is carried on still, in their hidden Mine, I fear, but dare not, the event, divine. May Heav'n defend my Father's Life, and late, Full ripe with Age, in peace, may he'yield to Fate. I know, my Friends, for Him's your chiefest Care, For him, as much as for your selves, you fear, Upon his Life our happiness depends, With it the peace of all _Judea_ ends, Be vigilant, your foes Designs prevent, Let not loud murmures shew your discontent: Your Loyal Duty to your Soveraign pay, Your Griefs present him in a Lawful way: Be not too anxious for our common Friend, God, and his Innocence will him defend: Sit down in quiet, murmure not, but pray, Submit to Heaven, your King, and Laws obey. Youth, Beauty, and the Grace wherewith he spoke, The Eyes, Ears, Hearts, of all the people took, Their murmures then to joyful shouts were turn'd, And they rejoyc'd, who lately murmuring mourn'd: With Loyalty he did their Breasts inflame, And they with shouts blest _Azaria_'s name. The joyful Cry th'row all the City flew, God save the King, and _Azaria_ too. To him the Princes, his best Friends resort, Resolv'd as Suppliants, to repair to Court; In humble wise, to shew the King their Grief, And on their bended Knees to seek Relief. They 'approach'd the Throne, to it their homage paid, Then to the King, the Loyal _Nashon_ said. Great Sir, whom all good Subjects truly Love, Tho all things that you do they can't approve, We, whom the Throne has with high Honours blest, Present you here the prayers of the rest; Our bended Knees, as low as Earth we bow, And humbly prostrate supplicate you now: The blessing of your Love to us restore, And raise us to your Favour, Sir, once more. Where is the Joy, the Peace, and Quiet flown, All had, when first you did ascend the Throne; Now murmuring discontents assault our Ears, And loud Complaints of jealousies, and fears: Bad instruments help to blow up this Fire, And with ill minds, their own worse Arts admire, Whilst, by their means, you think your Friends your Foes, For your best friends, your Enemies suppose; Suspect your Loyal Subjects, and believe The _Sanhedrim_ would you of Rights bereive. Your people, who do love your gentle Sway, And willingly their God, and you obey, Who for Religion ever zealous were, For that, for you, and for themselves do fear. Clear as the Sun, by sad effects they find, A _Baalite_ to succeed you is design'd: Sir, they would not dispute with you, his right, But they can n're indure a _Baalite_: Tho whilst you live, they are secure and blest, Yet are they with a thousand fears opprest, Think your Life still in danger of the Plot, Which now is laugh'd at, and almost forgot. They see the _Baalites_ Hellish Plot run down, And on the _Pharisees_ a false one thrown; Your zealous faithful _Jews_ all Rebels made, Their ruine hatch'd, you, and themselves betray'd. Oh! Sir, before things to extreams do run, Remember, at the least, you have a Son, Let the _Sanhedrim_ with your wisdom joyn, To keep unbroken still the Royal line; And to secure our fears, that after you, None shall succeed but a believing _Jew_. Sir, this is all your Loyal Subjects Crave, On you, as on a God, they cry to save. Kings are like Gods on Earth, when they redress, Their peoples Griefs, and save them in distress. With loads of careful thoughts, the King opprest, And long revolving in his Royal Breast, Th' event of Things-----at last he silence broke, And, with an awful Majesty, he spoke. I've long in Peace _Judeas_ Scepter swaid, None can Complain, I Justice have delay'd: My Clemency, and Mercy has been shown, Blood, and Revenge did ne'r pollute my Throne; I and my People happy, kindly strove, Which should exceed, my Mercy or their Love: Who, till of late, more ready were to give Supplies to me, than I was to receive. Oh! happy days, and oh! unhappy change; That makes my _Sanhedrims_, and my people strange, And now, when I am in the Throne grown old, With grief I see my Subjects Love prove cold. They fear not my known Mercy to offend, And with my awful Justice dare contend; But yet their Crimes my mercy shan't asswage, I'm ready to forgive th' offending Age, And though they should my Kingly power slight, I'le still keep for them my forgiving right. I feel a tenderness within me spring, I am my Peoples Father, and their King, And tho I think, they may have done me wrong. I can't remember their offences long. Nature is mov'd, and sues for a Reprieve, They are my Children, and I must forgive. My many jealous fears I shan't repeat, My Heart with a strong pulse of Love doth beat; Nature I feel has made a sudden start, And a fresh source springs from the Father's heart. A stubborn Bow, drawn by the force of men, The force remov'd, flies swifty back agen. 'Tis hard a Fathers nature to o'ercome, How easily does she her force assume! Sh' has o'er my Soul an easie Conquest won, And I remember now I have a Son, Whose Youth had long been my paternal Care, Rais'd to the height his noble frame could bear, And Heav'n has seem'd to give his Soul a turn, As if ordain'd by Fate for Empire born. By our known Laws I have the Scepter sway'd, By them I govern'd, them my Rule I made. To them I sought to frame my soveraign Will, By them my Subjects I will govern still: They, not the People, shall proclaim my Heir, } Yet I will hearken to my Subjects Prayer, } And of a _Baalite_ will remove their fear. } From hence I'le banish every Priest of _Baal_, And the wise _Sanhedrim_ together call: That Body with the Kingly Head shall join, Their Counsel and their Wisdom mix with mine, All former strife betwixt us be forgot, And in Oblivion buried every Plot. We'l try to live in Love and Peace again, As when I first began my happy Reign. Before our Trait'rous Foes with secret toil Did fair _Judea_'s blessed Peace embroil. May all my latter days excel my first, And he who then disturbs our Peace be curst.

He said: Th' Almighty heard, and from on high Spoke his Consent, in Thunder through the Skie: The Augurie was noted by the Croud, Who joyful shouts return'd almost as loud: Then _Amazia_ was once more restor'd, He lov'd his People, they obey'd their Lord.

_FINIS._

[Errata:

an Author, whose Wit has deservedly / gained the Bays; _"Bays" unclear_ the Horny or Ivory Port _so in original: "Part"?_

'Twas fear'd they'd fall at last from Words to Blows. _invisible apostrophe_ He fears your Wisdom, may his Hindrance prove, _text reads "Hndrance"_ Religion to o'rethrow and Government. _text reads "Governmenr"_ And _Azaria_, tho they us'd his name, _text reads "tehy"_ From you by art they have debauch'd your Son; _text reads "debauch,d"_ Full ripe with Age, in peace, may he'yield to Fate. _so in original: "he yield" or (metrical) "h'yield"?_ The force remov'd, flies swifty back agen. _see Editor's Introduction, References, for "swifty"_ ]

End of Project Gutenberg's Anti-Achitophel (1682), by Elkanah Settle et al.