Londini lachrymæ; or, London's complaint against her fugitives.

Londini Lachrymae ; OR , LONDON'S COMPLAINT AGAINST HER FUGITIVES . WHither away ? Why do ye fly so fast ? Cannot Gods Omnipresence check your hast ? What phrensie has possest Your roving Pates , What! is the City run out of the Gates ? Ye fly like Eagles on the Wings of Wealth , To overtake Your Prey afar off , Health : As if whoever could but get away , Had his Life given to Him for a Prey . Go , leave the City ; do , and Post ye hence , From the sad Centre to th' Circumference . The Rocks , and Mountains , and the Paths untrod Cannot conceal ye from the Eyes of God . Why fly ye then ? Is not the Lord , think you , God of the Hills , and of the Valleys too ? Durst ye not trust the Lord in Your behalves , That You are gone unto Your Country Calves ? Is it for this , You to the Hills repair , To sacrifice unto the Prince of th' Air , Gaping for Air as every One were gone , To Board himself with a Camelion ? 't is like too many did their Trades adjourn , As those to Tyburn , never to return : And , though his Hand th' avenging Angel stop , Are still afraid to come to the Old Shop . These Men are sentenc'd to a double doom , Come Health , or Sicknesse , still the Plague's at Home ; For they can Whet their Knives at better rate On a Cartwheel , than at the Compter-Gate . To such I must confesse a Plague will be , Not a Disease , but a Recovery : They must have needs shut up and hid the Head , Though not with Plague , they had been Visited : For Death and Debt they fear on equal score ; But they are gone , and shall be seen no more . The Doctors think too , ( whom I therefore mention ) A Journey now , good Physick for prevention . Who , when they see Contagion in such force , Prescribe themselves , for Fear , Bills of Divorce . Whose Excellencies from the foot-cloth-rank . Into the Country sneak to Mount-a-bank . Pure Visitants they are , to shun Heav'ns Rod , Leave their Poor Patients Visited of God : To whom they rid ( as now too plain 't is shown ) Not to Cure their Diseases , hut their own : The Fee they like well , that , alass , is sweet , But the Destroying Angel fear to meet . But here 's enough to speak of them , for I Count this is just Religio Medici . This yet is greater , and it makes me sad , Most of the Tribe of Levi's run to Gad . Appeased Heaven , 't is like , this Plague might stay , Did every Phinehas but stand up and Pray ; Too many now are of their Priests bereft , And but the meanest of the People left . The Parson is ( I know not of whose giving ) Into the Country gone , to get a Living . How can we in our Heavenly course but stray , When those should guide Us thither , run away ? They bid Us kneel when Heaven afflicts ; not fly , And give their Doctrine ( in their Deeds ) the lye . As if our Errors ( like Old Eli's Vice ) Could never be atton'd by Sacrifice . Once said a Zealous Priest , Now Soldiers Fight ; Who dyes to day , shall sup with Christ at Night : A Pistol streight to the Priests Breast was set , Who cries , Pray Sir , I am not hungry yet . Too many thus with Canaan's Language stalk For their own ends ; and make Gods Word meer talk . It follows then , their flight this wrong hath done us ; Gods House shut up , and Lord have Mercy upon us . If still the Livite be resolv'd to fly ? Go thy way for a Church-man , then say I. Lastly , when Sion has a Cause to Mourn , God does not bid Us ramble , but return . Thus Solomon has told Us in Times past , He that does fear the Lord , does not make hast . Then let us turn , and not our sins conceal , That Hand that Wounded Us , can only heal ; Nothing can Cure Us of our Maladies , But the Bethesda of our troubled Eyes . — Timor addidit alas . I , fuge , sed poteris tutior esse domi .