University of Virginia Library

1. CONTENTS OF THE FIRST COLLECTION.

Taylor on Thame Isis:

OR THE DESCRIPTION OF THE TWO FAMOUS Riuers of Thame and Jsis, who being conioyned or combined together, are called Thamisis, or Thames.

With all the Flats, Shoares, Shelues, Sands, Weares, Stops, Riuers, Brooks, Bournes, Streames, Rills, Riuolets, Streamelets, Creeks, and whatsoeuer helps the said Riuers haue, from their springs or heads, to their falls into the Ocean.

As also a discouery of the hinderances which doe impeach the passage of Boats and Barges, betwixt the famous Vniuersity of Oxford, and the City of London.

TO The Right Honourable Lords, Thomas Earle of Arundell and Surrey, Earle Marshall of England: Edward Lord Viscount Wimbleton: Henry Lord Viscount Fawlkland: and Sir Thomas Edmonds, Knight, Treasurer of the Kings Houshold: Lords of his Maiesties most Honourable Priuy Councell, and Commissioners for the Nauigation and fishing of the famous Riuers of Thames and Medway.

Right Noble Lords, with sorrow I beheld,
That which to write my duty hath compel'd,
And (from my pen) the Thames flow'd to the presse,
From thence it ebbes to you to finde redresse.
My Honourable Lord of Dorchester,
He truly noted in particular,
Dame Isis wrongs, and Thames great injuries,
For they were sad perspectiues to his eyes,
And had his Lordship liu'd his meaning was
To make the Riuer passable, to passe.
For then with noble care and diligence
He view'd the helps, and the impediments,
Which aid, or hinder passage vp and downe,
Twixt Oxford City, and braue Windsor towne;
Yet as I sometimes row'd and sometimes steer'd,
I view'd where well, where ill the way appeard;
And here I haue describ'd the way we went,
Commixing truth with honest merriment,
My threed-bare wit a mad wooll gathering goes,
To shew the things in verse I saw in prose;
And (Honourable Peeres) I humbly craue,
My artlesse lines may your acceptance haue,
Wishing each fault remou'd (which stands vnfit)
As soone as you can reade what I haue writ,
Desiring God to giue you high content
Here, and hereafter glory permanent.

TO The memory of the truly Noble deceased, Dvdley Carleton, Lord Viscount Dorchester, principall Secretary of State to his Maiestie of Great Britaine.

If He be blest that is of Noble bloud,
And being made great, is both great and good,
Who is a Christian euery way compleat,
Who holds it better to be good than great,
Whose life was guided with good Conscience,
Whose end was sauing faith and penitence,
These blessings Noble Dorchester were thine,
And these haue made thee 'Immortall and diuine.

To any Body.

I that ne're tasted the Castalian fount,
Or came in ken of the Thessalian Mount;
I that could ne're attaine to wet my lips,
With Tempes liquour, or sweet Aganipps,
Who neuer yet haue so much fauour won,
To purchase one carrowse from Helicon,
Who with good Poets dare compare no way
But one, which is in being poore as they;
And hauing neuer seene the Muses hill,
Am plentifully stor'd with want of skill,
Then Fount, or Mount, nor sacred treble trine,
Are no assistants in this worke of mine:
But ancient Isis current chrystall spring
Inspires my braine, and I her praises sing,
And Tame with Isis joynes his pearely streames,
Whose combination are my ample theames;
Though (for the most part) in the tracts I tread,
Of learned Camden, Speed, and Hollinshead,
And Draytons painfull Polyolbyon,
Whose fame shall liue, despight obliuion,
These are the guides I follow, with pretence
T'abbreuiate and extract their Quint-essence;
Nor can it be to them disparagement,
That I come after in the wayes they went,
For they of former writers followers be,
I follow them, and some may follow me;
And man to man a President is made
In Art or Science, mysterie or Trade,
As they before these Riuers bounds did show,
Here I come after with my Pen and row.

TAYLOR ON THAME ISIS.

Ovr patron Phœbus, whose sweet influence,
Doth quicken all our reason, life and sense,
Tis he makes grasse to grow, & Riuers spring,
He makes both my songs, subiect, and me sing;
His beames the waters doe extenuate
To vapours, and those vapours eleuate
Into the middle Region, where they tumble,
And melt, and then descend and are made humble,
Moystning the face of many a spacious hill,
Where soaking deepe the hollow vaults they fill,
Where into Riuers they againe breake out,
So nature in a circle runnes about.
Large Downes doe treasure vp great store of raine,
Whose bowels vent it in the vales againe:
No place in England could a treasure keepe,
Thames to maintaine, but Coteswould (queene of sheepe.)
In Glostershire (my dearest mother earth)
From whose faire City I deriue my birth,
Are Coteswould hills, and in the farthest cliffe
Of all those hils of Isis head is chiefe:
Schollers from Gloster that to Oxford ride
The truth of my assertion oft haue tride;
On their right hand neare Cubberley they passe,
Two Wells as sweet as milke, as cleare as glasse,
Whence Isis first doth pedegree deriue,
Those two are able there two mills to driue.

Corruptly called Stow the old.

At Burton on the water, south from Stow
Vpon the Would, great vaines of waters flow
To Burford, and to Witney, and along
Till they make meadowes large, and Isis strong.
The famous Riuer Isis hath her spring
Neare Tetbury, and downe along doth bring
(As hand-maids) to attend her progresse, Churne,
Colne, Windrush, Yenload, Leech, whose windings turne,
And Meads, and Pastures trims, bedecks, and dresses,
Like an vnvaluable chaine of ESSES.
After releefe of many a Ducke and Goose,
At Saint Iohns bridge they make their rendeuous,
And there like robbers crossing London way,
Bid many a bare-foot Welshman wade or stay.
Close vnder Oxford one of Englands eyes,
Chiefe of the chiefest Vniuersities,
From Banbury desirous to adde knowledge
To zeale, and to be taught in Magdalen College,
The Riuer Charwell doth to Isis runne,
And beares her company to Abington,
Whil'st very neare that towne on Barkshire side,
The Riuer Ock doth into Isis glide;
These fountaines and fish-breeding Riuolets,
(The Countries nurses, nourishers, and teats,)
Attend Dame Isis downe to Dorchester,
Neare which her louely Tame doth meet with her,
There Tame his Isis doth embrace and kisse,
Both joyn'd in one, cal'd Tame or Tame Isis,
Isis like Salmacis becomes with Tame
Hermaphrodite in nature and in name.
Tame doth deriue his Spring or Pedegree
Neare Mesworth in the vale of Aylsbury,
From whence he many miles with strange meanders,
To finde his lovely Isis slowly wanders,
Through fertile lands a quiet course he keepes,
Till Southward vnder Whately bridge he creepes,
And (like a Pilgrim) trauels all alone,
No Brooke or Riuer waiting him vpon,
Onely three namelesse Riuolets and two springs,
Which very priuately their tribute brings,
Bewailing Isis absence, and his fate,
Poore Tame all heauie and disconsolate,
Vnnauigable, scorn'd, despis'd, disgrac'd,
Hauing in vaine so many paces pac'd;
Despairing and quite desperate with these harmes,
He hurles himselfe vnwares in Isis armes;
Nor closer can the barke be to the tree,
Than their infoldings and embracings be;
They rise and fall together, and they are
In want and plenty to haue equall share;
And Tame with Isis will be both one riuer,
Till in the Ocean they their names deliuer.
At Wallingford and Pangbourne, two small rils,
Their homages to Thamisis instils.
The more the riuer runnes, the more tis spreading,
Till in it's course it falls as low as Reading,
Where Kennet kindly comes with force and source,
To aid and helpe Thamisis in their course.
The head of Kennet is neare Ramsbury,
Passing to Hungerford by Newbury.
The riuer Anborne out of Hampshire flies,
To Kennet with some namelesse small supplies
Of pettie rills, which passing here and there,
Who to repeat, teadious and needlesse were.
To Sunning and by Bisham Thames descends
To Marlow (called great) from whence it wends;
Whereas a little rill from Wickham towne,
To wait vpon the Thames comes gliding downe;
Then pleasantly the riuer takes free way
To Topley hills, by Maidenhead and Bray,
Till it to Windsor and to Stanes doth win,
And there the riuer Colne comes gliding in:
Colne hath its head or spring in Hartfordshire,
At Abbots Langley, or else very neere,
With some small petty rils and riuolets,
By Colbrooke vnto Stanes and Thames it gets,
The riuer Wey, with diuers namelesse springs
Neare Chertsey, vnto Thames their seruice brings.
Wey (beyond Guilford) help'd with creeks and crooks,
At last at Oatlands towards Sunbury lookes,
And there a little rill, (scarce worth a line)
In Middlesex doth with the Thames combine.
Neare Reygate towne the riuer Mole is found,
Bearing its course, runs (Mole-like) vnder ground;
But rising vp by Notbury againe,
At Molsey it the Thames doth entertaine.
From Ewell towne the riuer Brent makes haste,
Who by the Thames is louingly embrac'd:
Next which is Chiswicke towne, and Hammersmith,
It entertaines a rill, or little frith,
And after that below, neare Wandsworth mill,
Comes in another brooke or namelesse rill;
Thus I the riuer bring, and it brings me
From their first springs to London bridge you see.
Now from the bridge below descend I must,
Till Thames it selfe doth in the Ocean thrust,
And if my paines to good men proue a pleasure,
My gaine's beyond my merit, beyond measure,
Of Watermen, men scarce can finde a Slower,
Yet hey, to Grauesend hoe and somewhat lower.
Braue London Bridge claimes right preheminence
For strength, and Architects magnificence,
To be true None-such, for no eye beheld
A bridge which it each way hath paralleld.
The arches (Tame and Isis) shadie bowres,
Through which both East and West in twice twelue houres
Twice Neptune greets it flowing from the Maine,
And twice the riuer sends it backe againe,
And as the flouds or ebbes encrease or falls,
They through the arches murmure Madrigals,
Whil'st th'Eddies divers wayes doth turne and trace,
Tame doth with Isis dance the wilde goose chace,
From this rare matchlesse piece of workmanship,
I with the tide of Ebbe must quickly slip,
And downe into the Riuer Lea I hie,
That parts Midsaxon from East Saxony.
Which riuer fals from Ware to Walthamstow,
And downe by Layton vnto Stratford Bow,
Some call it Lea, but Camden calls it Stowre,
And neare Blackwall it in the Thames doth powre,
Next Rodeing is (a Brooke or riuer small)
Which Foord from Berking into Thames doth fall.
From Hauering, Burntwood and from Ockingdon,
Three little Rils into the Thames do run,
Th'are namelesse, or scarce worth the nomination.
And so on Essex side I end my station.
And now I'le crosse into the County Kent
To note what riuers from her bound are sent,
To wait vpon the mighty bigswolne Thames,
Who now is grown the Prince of Brittains streams.
By Bromley glides the riuer Rauensburne
To Deptford downe with many a wandring turne,
The riuer Darrent is the next and last,
Which downe by Dartford into Thames is cast.
And thus from Glocester shire neare Tetbury
And Buckingham shire close by Aylsbury,
I haue brought Isis and her partner Tame
With twenty seven helpes losing each their name,
Who spend themselues to make the Thames grow great,
Till (below Lee) it lose both name and seat,
Through many Countries as these waters passe,
They make the Pastures fructifie in grasse:
Cattell grow fat, and cheese and butter Cheape,
Hey in abundance, Corne by stricke and heape,
Beasts breed, and Fish increase, fowles multiply,
It brings wood, Cole, and Timber plenteously:
It beares the lame and weake, makes fat the leane,
And keepes whole townes and countries sweet and cleane;
Wer't not for Thames (as heauens high hand doth blesse it)
We neither could haue fish, or fire to dresse it,
The very Brewers would be at a fault,
And buy their water dearer than their mault,
And had they malt and water at desire,
What shift (a Gods name) would they make for fire?
There's many a Seaman, many a Nauigator,
Watermen, fishers, bargemen on this water,
Themselues and families beyond compare,
In number more than hundred thousands are,
Who doe their Prince and Country often serue,
And wer't not for this riuer might goe sterue;
And for the good to England it hath done,
Shall it to spoyle and ruine be let runne?
Shall priuate persons for their gainfull use,
Ingrosse the water and the land abuse,
Shall that which God and nature giues us free,
For vse and profit in community,
Be barr'd from men, and damb'd vp as in Thames,
(A shamelesse auarice surpassing shames;)
I speake not of the riuers bounds below,
Whereas the tides perpetuall ebbe and flow,
Nor is the riuer wanting much repaire,
Within the bounds of Londons honour'd Maior,
Which limits all are cleare from stakes and piles,
Beyond Stanes bridge (thats more than forty miles)
But I (from Oxford) downe to Stanes will slide,
And tell the riuers wrongs which I espide,
Not doubting but good mindes their powers will lend,
T'endeuour these abuses to amend:
Therefore I pray the Readers to dispence,
And pardon my abrupt intelligence.
From Oxford two miles Ifley distant is,
And there a new turne pike doth stand amisse,
Another stands at Stanford, below that,
Weeds, shelues, and shoales all waterlesse and flat;
At Newnham locke there's plac'd a fishing weare,
A grauell hill too high, scarce water there;
At Abington the shoales are worse and worse,
That Swift ditch seemes to be the better course,
Below which towne neare Sutton there are left
Piles that almost our Barges bottome cleft;
Then Sutton locks are great impediments,
The waters fall with such great violence,
Thence downe to Cullom, streame runs quicke and quicker,
Yet we rub'd twice a ground for want of liquor.
The Weare of Carpenter's sans fault I thinke,
But yet neare Witnum towne a tree did sinke,
Whereas by fortune we our Barge did hit,
And by misfortune there a board was split;
At Clifton there are rocks, and sands, and flats,
Which made vs wade, and wet like drowned rats,
The passage bare, the water often gone,
And rocks smooth worne, doe paue it like free stone.
From Clifton downe to Wallingford we fleet,
Where (for annoyance) piles are plac'd vnmeet;
From thence our Oares did downe the riuer draw,
Vntill we came vnto a mungrill Spaw,
A Bath, a Spring, a Fountaine, or a Rill,
That issues from the bowels of a hill,
A hill it may be tearm'd, or demie mountaine,
From out whose entralls springs this new-found fountaine,
Whose water (cleare as Chrystall, sweet as hony,)
Cures all diseases (except want of mony,)
It helpes the Palsey, Cramp, or Apoplexie,
Scab, scurfe, or scald, or dropsie if it vex yee,
The Plurisie, the Lethargie, Strangury,
It cures the Cataracke, and the Stone assure yee;
The head-ach, Megrim, Canker, or the Mumps,
Mange, Murrians, Meazles, Melancholy dumps,
It is of vertue, vigor, and of force
To driue all malladies from man or horse;
Help'd of a Tertian ague I saw one,
(Weake, and not worth the ground he went vpon)
Who drank the water mingled with the clay,
And presently the Ague ran away;
It cures an old sore, or a bruised blow,
It made the deafe to heare, the lame to goe;
One dumbe came thither, and straightway disputed,
And on the trees are crutches executed;
To heale greene wounds it hath such Soueraigne power,
It cur'd a broken pate in halfe an houre,
Which sconce was crack'd on purpose to th'intent,
To try the vertue of the Element.
If any man imagine I doe lie,
Let him goe thither, breake his pate and trie.
Some say crack'd maidenheads are there new sodered,
I'm sure the hill with beggers is embroidered,
And all those beggers are with little cost,
With lice and scabs embroidered and embost;
And as it were the Well of Aristotle,
The water is farre fetch'd in many a bottle,
The clay mixt with the liquour kils the Cornes,
Ah could it cure some Cuckolds of their hornes,
It would haue patients out of euery climat,
More than my patience could endure to rime at,
And had it but the vertue to surcease
Some clamorous tongues, and make them hold their peace,
Thousands of husbands would their wiues send thither;
That they might be recouered all together.
Apothecaries I lament your lots,
Your medcines now will mould in Gallipots,
Your drugges with barbarous names vnbought will lie,
And waste and languish in obscurity,
Twill begger all the Quacksaluers outright,
And all our Mountebanks are vndone quite,
But whats become of me? can any tell?
Good Reader helpe me out of this strange well;
I with my pen its praise did meane to touch,
And it (I feare) hath made me write too much,
Which if I haue, let your constructions be,
Blame the strange working waters and not me:
But he that sayes that I doe ouer-doe,
Let him goe thither and hee'le doe so to;
So farewell, Well, well fare thou, still excell,
Increase in operation, Well farewell.
Beneath the fountaine, next is Cleaue locks fall,
And neare to that a locke men Goring call,
But hauing past the locke at Gorings there,
At Master Coltons house we had good cheare,
With hearty welcome, but 'twas for his sake
That did this hopefull businesse vndertake,
Yet with our hearty thanks we thanke them all,
That din'd vs like a solemne festiuall.
From thence to Harts locke downward we descended,
And next to Whitchurch locke which must be mended,
Because the waters turne so swift and various,
And gainst our wils to dangerous courses carry vs:
Next there's a Weare, that if it had its right,
Should be well lib'd, or else remoued quite;
Below that Maple Ducham locke appeares,
Where stands three faulty and vntoward Weares;
Then neare the bridge of Cauersham there is
One Welbecks Weare, fit to be mou'd I wis;
As past the locke at Cauersham we row,
We found the riuer very foule below,
With weeds and hills of mud and grauell choak'd,
That with our Oares and staues we thrust and poak'd.
Next Breaches Weare near Sunning naught doth lie,
And Sunning locke the groundsill is too high,
Besides two Gin-holes that are very bad
And Sunning bridge much need of mending had;
Haules Weare doth almost crosse the riuer all,
Making the passage straight and very small,
How can that man be counted a good liuer
That for his priuate vse will stop a riuer?
Shiplocke, or Cottrels locke stand very neare,
Not from that farre is Elmes his fishing weare,
Whereas the riuers case is altered well,
For Master Ployden neare that place doth dwell;
Marsh locke is plac'd a little aboue Henly,
And there the Thames is kept indifferent cleanly,
And here at Henley once in fifteene yeares,
A Riuer stranger in the street appeares,
Whose cesterne in the Woods his wealth doth gather,
In that long space, and cannot get it rather,
But gotten out of high-way-flouds, and leaues,
As Dutchmen keepe the drops of their house-eues.
The cesterne fils and then the wals breake downe,
And send their stowage vnto Henley towne,
Another fifteene yeares the wals repaire,
And fill the place with raine or thawed ayre,
And being so replenisht in that space,
It runnes (rub rub) close by the bowling place.
Neare Henley (some three quarters of a mile)
A little Ile digresse and change my stile.
Should I forget the good Iudge Whitlocks loue,
Vnmanner'd and vngratefull I should proue,
It was about the time (as I remember)
In August, some fiue dayes before September)
We landed neare the noble Iudges harbour,
(With stomacks sharpe as razour of a Barber)
The time was short, we neither toyd nor trifled,
The Kitchin, Pantry, Pastry strait we rifled;
The Celler and the Buttery both we forrag'd,
By which braue booty we were much encourag'd,
Sacke and good Claret drawne from Tierce and Punchion,
That seru'd one whole day, and two euenings Nunchion;
Our bread as good as euer baker sifted,
Our wine (rare wine) as ere to mouth was lifted,
And in our businesse (though we all were hasty)
We did surprize an excellent Venson pasty,
We there did saue the labour of inuiters;
Whole ioynts of mutton prou'd vs good sheepe-biters,
Our beere was brauely boyl'd and strongly malted,
Our Pidgeon Pie was pepper'd well and salted,
Most tender Chickins, Pullet, and a Capon,
We (in our fury) did commit a rape on;
A mighty scarlet Lobster last we seased,
And so with these Acchats our minds were eased,
But that which made our viands taste the better,
Was welcome, which made each of vs a debter;
And long may he and his suruiue and flourish,
That did poore trauellers so kindly nourish,
These lines are writ in duty to expresse
Our loue, our duty, and our thankfulnesse.
From thence we hi'd vs with the streame and wind,
And in the Barge at noone we brauely din'd,
And as our meat our gratefull minds did moue,
We dranke Iudge Whitlocks health to shew our loue.
Then came we to a locke call'd Hambleton,
Whereas the streame a handsome course doth runne;
Next Mednam Weare doth speedy mending lacke,
It puts the Thames, and Thames puts it to wracke,
And neare Frogge-mill two paltry stops there are,
That in the Riuer take too great a share;
Newlocke at Harley, and a Weare below,
Almost a stop, (fit to be clear'd I know;)
Then Temple locke, 'boue Bisham Church there is,
Beneath which is a Weare somewhat amisse,
Then Marlow locke is worst I must confesse,
The water is so pinch'd with shallownesse,
Beneath which is a Weare should be defac'd,
And Cottrels Weare of Cookham be displac'd.
A Weare doth to one Holdernesse belong,
Which doth the riuer most iniurious wrong,
Neare which a Spring runs from the chalkie hills,
The which (not long agoe) did driue two mills,
A stop 'gainst Toplow Warren much doth spread
Next Bolters lock, (a mile from Maydenhead.)
Thus haue I past the locks, now weares and stops,
From thence as farre as Stanes mine Inkhorne drops.
'Boue Maidenhead bridge a stop and one beneath,
Which both to be amended I bequeath;
Against Bray church, and Bray mill, stand three more,
Indifferent bad as any were before;
A stop at Water Oakley naught doth lie,
At Rudles poole the grauell hills too high,
The water turnes so short, and runnes so quicke,
That oft the Barges there a ground doe stricke;
Neare Boueney Church a dangerous stop is found,
On which fiue passengers were lately drown'd;
Below the bridge at Windsor (passing thus)
Some needlesse piles stand very perillous:
Neare Eaton College is a stop and weare,
Whose absence well the riuer may forbeare;
A stop, a weare, a dangerous sunke tree,
Not farre from Datchet Ferry are all three;
A grauell bed, two stops and stakes beside,
Against and neare old Windsor Church we spide,
With two stops more we saw neare Ankerwike,
And neare my Lord Maiors stone we saw the like,
Besides an Aight or Island there we found,
Hedg'd farre into the streame to gaine more ground;
From Stanes we past to Lallum guls, most shallow,
Whereas fiue Barges fast aground did wallow;
And such a trowling current there did set,
That we were vildly puzzled by to get;
Tumbling 'twixt Middlesex and Surrey land,
We came where Chertseyes crooked bridge doth stand,
Which sure was made all by left-handed men,
The like of it was neuer in my ken;
Wiw waw to Oakam ward, kim kam, kiwwaw,
That through it men can hardly set or row,
That's the last fault I found that merits note,
And downe from thence we merrily did flote.
Thus haue I shew'd Thames wrongs in generall,
And wish they may be mou'd, or mended all;
And who can but with pity here behold
These multitudes of mischiefes manifold?
Shall Thames be barr'd its course with stops and locks,
With Mils, and hils, with gravell beds, and rocks:
With weares, and weeds, and forced Ilands made,
To spoile a publike for a priuate Trade?
Shame fall the doers, and Almighties blessing
Be heap'd vpon their heads that seeke redressing.
Were such a businesse to be done in Flanders
Or Holland mongst the industrious Netherlanders;
They to deepe passages would turne our hils,
To Windmils they would change our watermils.
All helpes vnto this riuer they would ayd,
And all impediments should be destroyed;
Our vagabonds (the wandering brood of Caine,)
They would enforce those runnagates take paine,
Whereby much profit quickly would accrue,
(For labour robs the hangman of his due.)
In common reason, all men must agree
That if the riuer were made cleane and free,
One Barge, with eight poore mens industrious paines,
Would carry more than forty carts or waines.
And euery waine to draw them horses fiue,
And each two men or boyes to guide or driue,
Charge of an hundred horse and 80. men
With eight mens labour would be serued then,
Thus men would be employed, and horse preseru'd,
And all the Countrey at cheape rates be seru'd.
T'is said the Dutchmen taught vs drinke and swill,
I'm sure we goe beyond them in that skill,
I wish (as we exceed them in what's bad,)
That we some portion of their goodnesse had:
Then should this worthy worke be soone begun,
And with successefull expedition done:
Which I despaire not of, but humbly plead,
That God his blessings will increase and spread
On them that loue this work, and on their heires,
Their goods and chattels, and on all that's theirs:
I wish them blest externall, and internall,
And in the end with happinesse eternall.

The Old, Old, Very Old Man:

OR, The Age and long Life of Thomas Par, the Son of John Parr of Winnington in the Parish of Alberbury; in the County of Salopp, (or Shropshire) who was Borne in the Raigne of King Edward the 4th. being aged 152. yeares and odd Monethes.

His Manner of Life and Conversation in so long a Pilgrimage; his Marriages, and his bringing up to London about the end of September last. 1635.

Whereunto is Added a Postscript, shewing the many remarkable Accidents that hapned in the Life of this Old Man.

Part of this Summers Travels.

Or News From Hell, Hull, and Hallifax, from York, Linne, Leicester, Chester, Coventry, Lichfield, Nottingham, and the Divells Ars a Peake.

Passages and Entertainments from London to Leicester, with some observations of the said Town and Shire.

Upon Saint Swithins day, I noted well,
The wind was calme, nor any rain then fell,
Which faire day (as old sawes saith) doth portend,
That heav'n to earth, will plenteous harvest send,
The morrow being Julies sixteenth day,
In my progression I began my way.
I need not to relate the towns that lie
Just in my way, (as I road through or by)
Onely at Mims, a Cockney boasting bragger
In mirth, did aske the women for Belswagger,
But strait the females, like the Furies fell,
Did curse, scold, raile, cast dirt, and stones pell mell,
But we betook us nimbly to our spurs,
And left them calling us rogues, Knaves, and curs,
With other pretty names, which I discern'd
They from their old fore-mothers well had learn'd.
The reason why they are with rage inflam'd,
When as they heare Belswagger nam'd.
Is (as report doth say) there dwelt a Squire,
Who was so full of love, (or lusts desire)
That with his faire tongue, Hippocritick-hood,
(By slanderous people 'twas misunderstood)
The women were so fruitfull, that they were
All got with childe, in compasse of one yeare,
And that Squires name, they say, Belswagger was,
And from that tale, the lying jeere doth passe,
Wherefore the women there will chide and swagger,
If any man do aske them for Belswagger.
Thence past I on my journey unto Hockly,
Where as I saw a Drunkard like a block lye,
There I alighted at the sanguine Lion,
Where I had meat, drink, and a bed to lie on,
The next day I road stately to Northampton,
And all the way my horse most proudly stampt on,
On Thursday, trotting, galloping and ambling,
To Leister, I proceeded in my rambling:
There, at the blue Boare I was welcome than
Unto my brother Miles, a downright man,
Plain dealing, free from flattery, fraud or feare,
Who hath liv'd long with reputation there,
He's old and honest, valiant, courteous, free:
(I write not this for making much of me)
But they that doubts on't, let them go and try
And if he be a changling, say I lie.
That house, King Richard lodg'd in, his last night,
Before he did the field of Bosworth fight,
And there's a Room, a King to entertain,
The like is not in Leister Town again,
Th'Assizes then were there, some causes tride,
And Law did there the corps and souls divide,
Of two offenders, one had with a Knife
Stabd his contracted love, and reav'd her life,
'Tother, a wench that had stolne some poor rayment,
And fir'd the house, deserv'd the Hangmans payment.
King Leir a Temple did to Janus reare
And plac'd a Flamine in't, there doth appeare
The arched Ovens foure yards thick at least,
Wherein they Heathen Sacrifices drest;
Like as the Jews in their Idolatry,
Offered their sonnes and daughters impiously,
To Moloch, Nisroch, Ashtaroth, and Ball:
And to those devillish gods adore and fall,
So people here, when warre or peace they sought;
They offrings unto Janus Temple brought;
This was eight hundred forty and foure yeare
Before our Saviours birth, built by King Leire,
Long after Eltreldred (the Mercian King)
A happy and a Christian change did bring,
The Temple raz'd the Flamine he defac'd,
And there a Christian Bishops Sea he plac'd,
Which last but few yeares, for then this Land
Was seven-fold yoaked, beneath 7 Kings command,
And those Kings still were in perpetuall wars
That England was quite spoyl'd with endlesse jars,
And in those Garboyles Leister had her share,
Spoy'ld, rifled, ransack'd, rob'd, and left most bare,
Till Edelfred, with great magnificence,
Repair'd and wall'd it strongly for defence.
Then did it flourish long in wealth and state,
Till second Henry it did ruinate:
He in out-ragious fury fir'd the Town,
Diswall'd it quite, and cast the Castle down,
So nothing but some ruines doth appeare,
Whereby men may perceive that such things were.
Thus Leister fell, from state superlative,
Her fifty churches all consum'd to five.
Yet it is faire and spacious at this day,
And East, West, North and South 'tis every way
Above a mile in length, so that no doubt,
The Town's in circuit six large miles about.
Henry first Duke of Lancaster in war,
In peace, or bounty, a bright blazing Star
For buildings in this City is renown'd,
Which as time rais'd, time did again confound.
Yet one large fabrick there doth still abide,
Whereby the good Dukes name is dignifide.
And that's an Hospitall or Bead-house, where
One hundred and ten men are harbour'd there,
From perishing through want, still to defend
Those aged men untill the world shall end.
Twice every day a Chaplain doth repair
To them; and unto God sends prayse and prayer,
And Nurses are allow'd to dresse their meat,
To make their beds, to wash, and keep them neat:
For which they thankefull be to God alone
Who rais'd such means to ease the poor mans mone.
Good Henry Earle of Huntingdon (renown'd)
A free schoole did erect there, from the ground,
With means (though meane) sor mayntenance endow'd
Two Vshers, and one Schoolmaster allow'd,
They teach young lads, such Rules as do belong,
To reade the English and the Latine tongue,
And when their knowledge is with hope discernd,
They in the Greek may learn, and be more learn'd.

Newes from Hell, with a short description of the Hell at Westminster.

Not from that Hell where souls tormented lye
In endlesse Death, and yet shall never die,
Where gnashing cold, commixt with flames still burning,
Where's entrance free, but never back returning:
Where nought but horrour, fiends, and torments dwell.
I bring no news from that accursed Hell;
Yet mine own merits are of such low price,
To barre me from Celestiall Paradise,
And sinke me in that horrid Lake infernall,
But that my hope and faith is fixt supernall.
The Hell I write of is well known to be
A place of pleasure, and for all men free,
Where wretched Ghosts are not in torments stayd,
For all the pains upon the purse is laid.
To finde this Hell you need not travell farre,
'Tis understood the high Exchequer Barre
At Westminster, and those who thither venter,
Do not give Cerberus a sop to enter,
For Charons fury, you need never feare it,
(Although ten thousand do land somewhat neer it)
Within this Hell is good content and quiet,
Good entertainment, various sorts of diet,
Tables a score at once, in sundry places,
Where hungry mouthes fall to, and say short Graces,
And then (in some sort) I may parallell
This earthly Hell, with the infernall Hell.
Hot sweltring vapours, Pots, and Cauldrons boyling.
Great vehement fires, with roasting, stewing, broyling;
The Cooks & Scullions, all be smear'd and smoak'd,
And in their Masters Grease well stew'd & soak'd,
And had the Devill a stomack unto it,
The Cook himselfe is not the rawest bit,
Like as th'infernall Hell doth entertain
All commers, so this Hell doth not refrain
To give free welcome unto every one
If money fayle not, there's excepted None.
This Hell is govern'd by a worthy Duke,
That Pluto like, his under fiends rebuke,
There the tormenting Tapster is control'd,
If courteously he Nick not (as he should)
He must attend at every knock and rap,
His reverend Jugge deckt with a frothy cap,
He fils and empts, and empts and fils again
Like Sisyphus, he toyles, but not so vain,
Like Danaus daughters, taking up, and spilling,
He's always emptying, and he's never filling.
Thither the Counsellour for comfort comes
To rince his toyling tongue, and wash his gums.
The Client having Tityus empty maw
(His guts tormented with the Vulture Law)
He comming to this Hell may finde reliefe,
Of comfortable Plumbroath, and Roast Biefe;
There, for your solace you may feed upon
Whole Seas of Pottage, hot as Phlegeton,
And midst those Seas, by art, the Cooks hath laid
Small Iles of Mutton, which you may invade
With stomack, knife and spoon, or tooth and naile,
With these, the victory you cannot faile.
Therefore this earthly Hell is easier farre,
Then where the miserable damned are,
There's no redemption from that black Abisse,
And here regresse, as well as egresse is,
Therefore they falsly do mistake the story,
To call this Hell, which is but Purgatory,
For here's no Thraldome, from this place you may
Get present freedome, if the shot you pay.

Here followeth three Satyricall Lashes or Jerks, given with the Pen of the Authour, at or upon the Devil's Ars a Peak.

Pens , are most dangerous Tools, more sharp by ods
Then Swords, and cut more keene then Whips or Rods,
Therefore (most high and mighty Duke of Dis)
Commander where the Lake Avernus is,
Great Lord of Limbo, Styx, and Phlegeton,
Of Tartarus, Gehenna, Acheron,
Most potent Monarch of black Erebus,
Prince of the Triple-headed Cerberus,
Sole Emperour of Darknesse, and dark works,
Master of Hereticks, Infidels and Turks,
Arch-flammin of hot Tophets smouldring flames,
King of Cocytus, and th'infernall streams,
Earle of all Errors, and chief Dominator
Of all sins done, by Earth, Ayre, Land, or Water,
Viscount, and Baron of large Barathrum,
Since I have lived to come so neare your Bum,
As is your wicked worships Ars a Peake,
Though some men think my Muse is all too weake;
I with my Pen doe meane to yerke and ferke ye,
And (as I promis'd) with three jerkes will jerke ye.
I know that many fooles will jeere and frumpe,
That I durst come so neare the Divells Rumpe,
And lash with my poore penne Satyricall,
This great Don Diego Diabolicall:
But I would have him and his friends to know,
I jeere him not, for all his Bug-bare show:
'Tis knowne that he, and all that him attend,
To any Poet never was a friend:
And therefore now I daring him oppose,
And jerke his hellish Majesty in Prose.

1640. The Praise of the Needle.

THE PRAISE OF THE NEEDLE.

To all dispersed sorts of Arts and Trades,
J writ the Needles prayse (that never fades)
So long as children shall be got or borne,
So long as garments shall be made, or worne,
So long as Hemp or Flax, or Sheep shall bear
Their linnen wollen fleeces yeare by yeare:
So long as Silk-wormes, with exhausted spoile,
Of their owne Entrailes for mans gaine shall toyle:
Yea till the world be quite dissolu'd and past;
So long at least, the Needles use shall last:
And though from earth his being did begin,
Yet through the fire he did his honour win:
And vnto those that doe his service lacke,
Hee's true as steele and mettle to the backe.
He hath I per se cye, small single sight,
Yet like a Pigmey, Polipheme in fight:
As a stout Captaine, bravely he leades on,
(Not fearing colours) till the worke be done,
Through thicke and thinne he is most sharpely set,
With speed through stitch, he will the conquest get.
And as a souldier Frenchefyde with heat)
Maim'd from the warres is forc'd to make retreat;
So when a Needles point is broke, and gone,
No point Mounsieur, he's maim'd, his worke is done,
And more the Needles honour to advance,
It is a Taylors Iavelin, or his Launce.
And for my Countries quiet, I should like,
That women-kinde should vse no other Pike.
It will increase their peace, enlarge their store,
To use their tongues lesse, and their Needles more,
The Needles sharpenesse, profit yeelds, and pleasure,
But sharpenesse of the tongue, bites out of measure.
A Needle (though it be but small and slender)
Yet it is both a maker and a mender:
A graue Reformer of old Rents decayd,
Stops holes and seames, and desperate cuts displayd.
And thus without the Needle we may see,
We should without our Bibs and Biggins bee;
No shirts or Smockes, our nakednesse to hide,
No garments gay, to make us magnifide:
No shadowes, Shapparoones, Caules, Bands, Ruffs, Kuffs,
No Kirchiefes, Quoyfes, Chin-clouts, or Marry-Muffes,
No Cros-cloaths, Aprons, Hand-kerchiefes, or Falls,
No Table-cloathes, for Parlours or for Halls.
No Sheetes, no Towels, Napkins, Pillow-beares,
Nor any Garment man or woman weares.
Thus is a Needle prov'd an Instrument,
Of profit, pleasure, and of ornament.
Which mighty Queenes haue grac'd in hand to take,
And high borne Ladies such esteeme did make,
That as their Daughters Daughters up did grow,
The Needles Art, they to their children show.
And as 'twas then an exercise of praise,
So what deserves more honour in these dayes,
Then this? which daily doth it selfe expresse,
A mortall enemy to idlenesse.
The use of Sewing is exceeding old,
As in the sacred Text it is enrold:
Our Parents first in Paradise began,
Who hath descended since from man to man:
The mothers taught their Daughters, Sires their Sons,
Thus in a line successively it runs
For generall profit, and for recreation,
From generation unto generation.
With worke like Cherubims Embroidered rare,
The Covers of the Tabernacle were.
And by the Almighti's great command, we see,
That Aarons Garments broydered worke should be;
And further, God did bid his Vestments should
Be made most gay, and glorious to behold.
Thus plainly, and most truly is declar'd,
The Needles worke hath still bin in regard
For it doth ART, so like to NATVRE frame,
As if IT were her Sister, or the SAME.
Flowers, Plants, and Fishes, Beasts, Birds, Flyes, and Bees,
Hils, Dales, Plaines, Pastures, Skies, Seas, Rivers, Trees;
There's nothing neere at hand, or farthest sought,
But with the Needle may be shap'd and wrought.
In clothes of Arras I have often seene,
Mens figurd counterfeits so like haue beene,
That if the parties selfe had beene in place,
Yet ART would vye with NATVRE for the grace
Moreover, Posies rare, and Anagrams,
Signifique searching sentences from Names,
True History, or various pleasant fiction,
In sundry colours mixt, with Arts commixion,
All in Dimension Ovals, Squares, and Rounds,
Arts life included within Natures bounds:
So that Art seemeth meerely naturall,
In forming shapes so Geometricall,
And though our Country every where is fild
With Ladies, and with Gentlewomen, skild
In this rare Art, yet here they may discerne
Some things to teach them if they list to learne.
And as this booke some cunning workes doth teach,
(Too hard for meane capacities to reach)
So for weake learners, other workes here be,
As plaine and easie as are ABC.
Thus skilfull, or unskillfull, each may take,
This booke, and of it, each good use may make,
All sorts of workes, almost that can be nam'd,
Here are directions how they may be fram'd:
And for this kingdomes good are hither come,
From the remotest parts of Christendome,
Collected with much paines and industry,
From scorching Spaine and freezing Muscovie,
From fertill France, and pleasant Italy,
From Poland, Sweden, Denmarke, Germany,
And some of these rare Patternes haue beene fet,
Beyond the bounds of faithlesse Mahomet:
From spacious China, and those Kingdomes East,
And from great Mexico, the Indies West.
Thus are these workes, farre fetcht, and dearely bought,
And consequently good for Ladies thought.
Nor doe I derogate (in any case)
Or doe esteeme of other teachings base,
For Tent-worke, Raisd-worke, Laid-worke, Frost-worke, Networke,
Most curious Purles, or rare Italian Cutworke,
Fine Ferne-stitch, Finny-stitch, New-stitch, and Chain-stitch,
Braue Bred-stitch, Fisher-stitch, Irish-stitch, and Queen-stitch,
The Spanish-stitch, Rosemary-stitch, and Mowse-stitch,
The smarting Whip-stitch, Back-stitch, & the Crosse-stitch,
All these are good, and these we must allow,
And these are every where in practise now:
And in this Booke, there are of these some store,
With many others, neuer seene before.
Here Practise and Invention may be free,
And as a Squirrell skips from tree to tree,
So maids may (from their Mistresse, or their Mother)
Learne to leaue one worke, and to learne an other,
For here they may make choyce of which is which,
And skip from worke to worke, from stitch to stitch,
Vntil, in time, delightfull practice shall
(With profit) make them perfect in them all.
Thus hoping that these workes may haue this guide,
To serue for ornament, and not for pride:
To cherish vertue, banish idlenesse,
For these ends, may this booke haue good successe.

Here follow certaine Sonnets in the Honorable memory of Queenes and great Ladies, who haue bin famous for their rare Inventions and practise with the Needle.

1

[King David by an apt similitude]

King David by an apt similitude,
Doth shew with Maiesty, the Church her worth;
And to a faire Kings daughter doth allude,
Where to her Spouse, he bravely brings her forth,
In Garments wrought of Needle-worke and Gold,
Resplendent and most glorious to the eye:
Whose out-side much more glory did infold,
The presence of th'eternall Majesty.
Thus may you see Records of holy Writ
Set downe (what death or Time can nere deface.)
By these comparisons, comparing fit,
The noble worth of Needle-workes high grace.
Then learne faire Damsels, learne your times to spend
In this, which such high praisings doth commend.

2
Katharine first married to Arthur, Prince of Wales, and afterward to Henry the 8. King of England.

I read that in the seventh King Henries Raigne,
Faire Katharine, Daughter to the Castile King,
Came into England with a pompous traine
Of Spanish Ladies which shee thence did bring.
She to the eight King Henry married was,
And afterwards divorc'd, where vertuously
(Although a Queene) yet she her dayes did passe,
In working with the Needle curiously,
As in the Towre, and places more beside,
Her excellent memorialls may be seene:
Whereby the Needles prayse is dignifide
By her faire Ladies, and her selfe, a Queene.
Thus for her paines, here her reward is iust,
Her workes proclaime her prayse, though she be dust.

3
Mary, Queene of England, and wife to Philip King of Spaine.

Her Daughter Mary here the Scepter swaid,
And though shee were a Queene of mighty power,
Her memory will never be decaid,
Which by her workes are likewise in the Tower,
In Windsor Castle, and in Hampton Court,
In that most pompous roome call'd Paradise:
Who euer pleaseth thither to resort,
May see some workes of hers, of wondrous price.
Her greatnesse held it no dis-reputation,
To take the Needle in her Koyall hand:
Which was a good example to our Nation,
To banish idlenesse from out her Land:
And thus this Queene, in wisedome thought it fit,
The Needles worke pleas'd her, and she grac'd it.

4
Elizabeth Queene of England, and Daughter to King Henry the eight.

When this great Queene, whose memory shall not
By any terme of time be over-cast;
For when the world, and all therein shall rot
Yet shall her glorious fame for ever last.
When she a maid, had many troubles past,
From Iayle to Iayle, by Maries angry spleene:
And Woodstocke, and the Tower in Prison fast,
And after all was Englands Peerelesse Queene.
Yet howsoeuer sorrow came or went,
She made the Needle her companion still,
And in that exercise her time she spent,
As many living yet doe know her skill.
Thus shee was still, a Captive, or else crownd,
A Needle-woman Royall, and renownd.

5
The Right Honourable, Vertuous, and learned Lady Mary, late Countesse of Pembrooke.

A Patterne, and a Patronesse she was,
Of vertuous industry and studious learning:
And shee her earthly Pilgrimage did passe,
In Acts which were high honour most concerning.
Braue Wilton house in Wiltshire well can show,
Her admirable workes in Arras fram'd:
Where men, and beasts, seeme like, trees seeme to grow,
And Art (surpass'd by Nature) seemes asham'd,
Thus this renowned Honourable Dame,
Her happy time most happily did spend;
Whose worth recorded in the mouth of fame,
(Vntill the world shall end) shall never end
She wrought so well in Needle-worke, that shee,
Nor yet her workes, shall ere forgoten be.

6
The Right Honourable and religious Lady Elizabeth Dormer, Wife to the late Right Honourable, the Lord Robert Dormer deceased.

This Noble Lady imitates time past,
Directs time present, teacheth time to come,
And longer then her life, her laud shall last,
Workes shewes her worth, though all the world were dumb.
And though her Reverend selfe, with many dayes,
Of honourable age is loaden deepe,
Yet with her Needle (to her worthy prayse)
Shee's working often ere the Sunne doth peepe.
And, many times, when Phœbus in the West
Declined is, and Luna shewes her head:
This antient honour'd Lady rests from Rest,
And workes when idle sloath goes soone to bed,
Thus shee the Needle makes her recreation,
Whose well-spent paines are others imitation.

To all degrees of both sexes, that love or liue by the laudable imployment of the Needle.

If any aske to whom these lines are writ,
I answer, unto them that doe inquire:
For since the worlds Creation none was yet,
Whose wants did not the Needles helpe desire.
And therefore not to him, or her, or thee,
Or them, or they, I doe not write at all:
Nor to particulars of he or shee,
But generally, to all in generall.
Then let not Pride looke scuruily a-scewe,
Without the Needle, Pride would naked goe:
Nor yet let scorne, cry pish, and tush, and mew,
Scorne is forgetfull much in doing so,
Nor yet let any one presume to prate,
And call these lines poore trifles, by me pend:
Let not opinion be prejudicate,
But mend it ere they dare to discommend,
So fare thou well, my well-deseruing booke,
(I meane, the works deserts, and not my lines)
I much presume that all that one it looke,
Will like and laud the workemans good designes,
Fooles play the Fooles, but tis through want of wit,
Whilst I to wisedomes censure doe submit.

Differing Worships,

Or, The Oddes, betweene some Knights Service and God's. OR Tom Nash his Ghost, (the old Martin queller) newly rous'd, and is come to chide and take order with Nonconformists, Schismatiques, Separatists, and scandalous Libellers.

TO THE FRIENDLY, VNFRIENDLY, PREJUDICATE, or Indifferent Reader, or Hearer, and so consequently to all, and every body.

I (with applause) have writt, neere seavenscore Books,
Yet never fear'd base words, or scurvy looks:
Though some detracting spirits snarle and hisse,
I (with mine owne hand) doe acknowledge this:
Let Rake-hells raile, and Rebels kick and spurne;
The Bush shall be unburnt, when they shall burne:
Such as would sink the Arke (which doth denote
That then Gods Church was in that sacred Boate)
More barbarous than the barbarous souldiers were
That did refuse Christs seam-lesse Coate to teare;
To such as these, and none but such as these,
My lines may have a rellish to displease;
And I doe say (as better men have said)
God is my record, I am not affraid
Of Force or Fraude; for he that feareth such,
Will never dare t'abide the Test or Tutch:
Nor is it flatt'ry that doth cause me write,
(My Climactericall doth say, Good Night)
And 'tis a Court-like adulating sinne,
Which I ne're us'd, nor will I now beginne;
He that's offended, let him tell wherefore,
And shew some reason why he hath therefore;
And where my error is, but shew me it,
In all Humility I will submit.
Some sattin Momus, or some silken Zoylus,
Or Midas puft in plush, or musky Troylus;
This was not writt to doe them any pleasure,
Nor can their Wisedomes take of it true measure;
If such as understand not, are offended,
I bid them all come kisse my Muse, and mend it.
But sure, as long as God is on my side,
What need I care if raskals doe deride;
My deere, deere Mother, Englands Church, 'tis she,
(In humble duty) drawes these lines from me;
For though I am no Clergie-man, I know,
That I obedience unto Her doe owe;
In Her, I was baptised, and in Her
I have been shew'd Truth, and to shun to erre;
In Her th'eternall food (most excellent)
I have receiv'd, in th'Word and Sacrament,
And for Her sake (to vindicate her cause)
Expecting neither proffit nor applause,
These following lines unto the world I send,
Which (I am sure) shall last, till time shall end.

Differing Worships,

Or The Oddes, betweene some Knights service and Gods.

And first to begin with the Knights or Ladies High and Mighty Worships.

Note the Rare fabrick of his Worships Building,
Behold th'Illustrious Splendor of the Gilding,
View well the Columns, and the Buttresses,
Marke the faire Pompous Porches Glorious dresse,
The Pillars, and the Pillasters admire,
Looke how the pointed Pyramids aspire,
The Obeliskes, Corinthian carv'd work fine
Of purest Marble, Ieat, or Serpentine,
Of Alabaster, Tutch, or Porphiry,
Or of th'admired (mock-Jeat) Ebony;
From the Foundation to the Battlement
Most sumptuous, stately and magnificent.
His Worships Radient Hall, wood-linings pure,
Miter'd and Cipher'd, and Reval'd Immure:
His Marble Pavement Chequer'd black and white,
T'Amaze and Ravish the beholders sight;
His Worships faire Glasse-windowes, with his name
And Armes, (which shewes from what descents he came)
His Worship eats and sleepes, in Roomes, are hung
With costly Arras, and himselfe among
(I meane his Picture, if right understood)
Gentles Allyed, in Marriage, or in Blood;
See more, and take note what you see, at length
His Worships Altar's Crown'd with Glorious strength
Of Massie Plate; His Worships Tables hold
Large Purple Velvet Carpets, fring'd with Gold.
His Worships Spouse, and Issue; like a Rood
Of Glistring Images; his Worships food
Approaching, Be uncover'd, Stentor cries;
His Worships Waiters bow before him thrice,
With servile reverence, humbly stooping low,
They pay the duty they his Worship owe.
His Worships Chaplaine, twice, (with double grace)
In feare and trembling, takes and leaves his place,
And (having read his Chapter) still must say,
Thus ends your Worships Lesson for the day.
His Worships Lady (likewise mighty fine)
Adored is, as 'twere a Thing Divine;
Her Waiting-woman, and her Chamber-mayd
Is sude to, bow'd to, and implor'd and pray'd.
Knights Service thus, and Lady Worship, see
How odly, madly Gods and this agree.

Here followeth the unfashionable fashion, or the too too homely Worshipping of God.

Gods Houses, almost like Troyes Ilion,
Are also built of course and baser stone,
With broken Pavement, Window, Wall and Dore;
Well, if but White-lim'd, and then Oaker'd o're;
Drillings of Raine, make greene and yellow streakes,
And (Where they give him place) the Painter speakes
In Creed, Commands, and Prayer, and 'gainst his Will
To the Kings foes, puts Dizzie Painter still,
Sayes Woodcock was Church-warden, then cries Woe
Over the Pulpit, and in mind to show
Beggers at dore, how dreadfull to their trade
Death is, he sets him working with a Spade.
Nine dusty Seats, twelve Tressels, two crack'd Bels,
Three broken Halters. And what? Nothing else
Goes to a Church? The Chancell hath a Boord
Worth nine pence (most unworthy of the Lord)
With pretty home-spun Linsey-woolsey spread
Under the Linnen, whither (scarce white) Bread
And cheape sowre wine, two hob-nail'd Wardens dragge
In Gibeons Bottles, and course Pudding-bagge.
All manners, and all decencie must be
Laid by; as much as bowing of the Knee
Unlawfull is, though Paul commands it so,
Yet many new pure spirits doe say no.
That Kneeling, comes so neere Idolatry;
T'avoid which, they will be so mannerly
To be Christs fellow, and to sit at's Table,
And give his house like reverence as the stable.
Thus sawcie Mortals (vile and transitory)
Doe rob themselves of grace, and God of glory;
These rude behaviours every good man greeves,
When Temples are esteem'd like dens of Theeves.
Gods Worship this: The great Kings Service! see
How odly madly God's and man's agree.

The unequall or incomparable comparison.

Lenvoy, or Postscript.

From wronging of my King, from State reviling,
From Libels writing or in Print compiling:
From troubling of my coxcombe, braines, or mazzard,
From putting my estate or eares in hazzard:
From seeking things that are beyond my reach;
From dreaming I could all the Clergie teach;
From Pride, Vain-glory, and Hypocrisie,
From striving to obtaine a Pillory,
And from deserving of the triple Tree,
Good Lord of Heaven and Earth deliver mee.

A SVVARME OF SECTARIES, AND SCHISMATIQVES:

Wherein is discovered the strange preaching (or prating) of such as are by their trades Coblers, Tinkers, Pedlers, Weavers, Sowgelders, and Chymney-Sweepers.

The ods or difference betwixt the Knaves Puritan, and the Knave Puritan.

And first of the Knaves Puritan.

Hee that resists the world, the flesh, and Fiend,
And makes a conscience how his daies he spend
Who hates excessive drinking, Drabs and Dice,
And (in his heart) hath God in highest price;
That lives conformable to Law, and State,
Nor from the Truth will flie or separate:
That will not sweare, or couzen, cogge, or lie,
But strives (in Gods feare) how to live and die:
He that seekes thus to do the best he can,
He is the Knaves abused Puritan.

The Knave Puritan.

To he that will.

Thou that this little Book in hand dost take,
Of what thou read'st no false construction make
Be not prejudicate, to carp, or grudge,
And look thou understand before thou judge:
My Muse is Musicall, and runs division,
And holds all Critick Cockscombs in derision.
The wretch, that true Religion doth despise,
Is like the Atheist, that his God denies,
And those that do contemne Religious Rites,
Must look for portions with the hypocrites:
And therefore with all Reverend due respects
To Truth, I have displaid some peevish Sects,
Full of foule errors, poore, and bare of sence,
Yet tending to some dangerous consequence.
'Tis past a Butchers, or a Brewers reach,
To pearch into a Pulpit, or to preach;
A pot, a platter, dripping pan, or spit,
Are for a Ladies Bed-chamber unfit:
Rich Hangings, Curtaines, Carpets, garments gay
Doe not become a Kitchin any way.
A Preachers work is not to gelde a Sowe,
Vnseemly 'tis a Iudge should milke a Cowe:
A Cobler to a Pulpit should not mount,
Nor can an Asse cast up a true account.
A Clowne to sway a Scepter is too base,
And Princes to turne Pedlers were disgrace:
Yet all these, if they not misplaced be,
Are necessary, each in their degree,
If each within their limits be contain'd,
Peace flourisheth, and concord is maintain'd.
The good man Iob describes it plain and right,

Iob 10. 22.

Where order is not, darknesse, and the light
Are both alike, for blindefold Ignorance
Of perfect wisdome hath no glimpse or glance.
But such as 'gainst all order doe rebell,
Let them not doe as did Achitophell,

2 Sam. 17 23.

To set his house in order home went he,
But what became of him, pray reade and see.
Kinde Brethren, I doe wish you better fortune,
And with tongue, pen, and heart, I you importune
To have the patience but to heare, or reade
What kinde of fellowes doe you thus misleade;
I doe inveigh here with impartiall pen
Against no silenc'd, learned Clergy men,
Nor any man that understands me right,
But will approve these lines which here I write:
For let base spight say what it dare or can,
I know, what's writ, offends no honest man.
I write of some, that with tongue, pen and print
Have writ and rail'd, as if the devill were in't.
I could name many of that precious crew,
And for a taste I will recite a few.

First, of one that was a Merchant of Pitchards, Black pots, Double Iugges, and Pipkins, and was forward to preach, not being called or sent.

Neare to the lower end of Cheapside late,
There dwelt one Knight that sold much brittle plate,
As glasses, earthen dishes, pans and platters,
Pots, pipkins, gallipots, and such like matters.
This Knight the Brethren (by appointment sent
To Loving-land, (an Isle) in Suffolk went,
And at a Village (Summerlayten hight)
A Sermon there was preached by that Knight.
His prayer extemp're done, he op'de the book,
And Vnto us a Childe is borne, he took
To be his Text, and handled it so gravely,
That for it did in Yarmouth Gaole, the Knave lie.
Knight had to aide him to negotiate,
One Gault (a Shoomaker) Ass-sociate,
Both which were quickly to promotion risen,
Preferr'd from Yarmouth, unto Norwich prisen.
From thence Knight was unto the Gatehouse broght
Whence upon Baile, his liberty he sought,
And was bail'd, but his baile and he both fled
To Amsterdam, and there he published
Strange Libels, full of mischiefe and debate,
Which here were scatterd 'gainst the Church and State.
Whereby he to the world did plaine reveale
His mallapert, most saucie, purblinde zeale.

Another sweet youth in a Basket.

One Sidrach Cave made Baskets late in Elie,
A constant brother, rais'd up his maids belly:
But 'twas in Gandermonth, his wife lay in,
His flesh rebell'd, and tempted him to sin;
And Cave's wife tooke the wrong most patiently,
For which the Brethren prais'd her sanctity.

A third Bird of the same Nest.

Another (one Iohn Howgrave) dwelt at Yarmouth
(Not hot, or cold, but with a meere lukewarm-mouth
From country, wife & houshold late he fled
To Rotterdam, for's Conscience as he sed;
At Iohn Burgaries house, he took his Inne,
And woo'd his Hostesse to the Paphean sin.
Burgaries wife by him with childe was got,
That Howgrave fearing Rotterdam too hot,
Fled back to Yarmouth, whence at first he came;
His fault was knowne, and he chid for the same:
He said it was not he did that vile deed,
But sin that dwelt in him that fault did breed;
And that the devill should more damnation win,
For tempting Gods deare childe to such a sin.

Another like that.

Of young, and old, both sexes late, a crew
were bound from England old, to Engl: new:
And staying long at Yarmouth there together,
Expecting Ships for passage, winde and weather,
A Brother came to Howgraves wife, and kist her,
And told her sad newes of a new falne sister,
Falne (quoth she) from the Word? I hope not that,
And let her fall then, to no matter what:
Ah no, shee's fowly got with childe (quoth he)
Now out upon her, pray by whom (quoth she)
'Twas by a faithfull Brother he replide,
Well, well, quoth she, we all have gone aside;
If 'twere a Brothers, deed she could not shun it,
But 'thad been naught, had one of th'wicked done it.

A precious youth.

Also one Spilsbery rose up of late,
(Who doth, or did dwell over Aldersgate)
His office was to weigh Hay by the Trusse,
(Fit for the pallat of Bucephalus)
He in short time left his Hay-weighing trade,
And afterwards he Irish Stockings made:
He rebaptiz'd in Anabaptist fashion
One Eaton (of the new found separation)
A zealous Button maker, grave and wise,
And gave him orders, others to baptize;
Who was so apt to learne that in one day,
Hee'd do't as well as Spilsbery weigh'd Hay.
This pure Hay-lay man to the Bankside came,
And likewise there baptiz'd an impure dame,
A Basket-makers wife, known wondrous well,
In Mosse his Alley he and she doth dwell.

As good as the rest.

At Brentford dwels the widdow Constable,
(As wife as was the Dean of Dunstable)
Her husband dy'd, and she great hast did make,
Our Church, and Churches doctrine to forsake;
Professing purity, chaste, undefil'd,
Yet in a Gravell pit was got with childe,
And now she bids Religion quite adiew,
Turn'd from a Nonconformist, to a Jew.

[These kind of Vermin swarm like Caterpillars]

These kind of Vermin swarm like Caterpillars
And hold Conventicles in Barnes and Sellars,
Some preach (or prate) in woods, in fields, in stables,
In hollow trees, in tubs, on tops of tables,
To the expence of many a tallow Tapor,
They tosse the holy Scripture into Vapor:
These are the Rabshekaes that raile so bitter,
(Like mungrill Whelpes of Hells infernall litter)
Against that Church that hath baptiz'd and bred them,
And like a loving mother, nurst & fed them,
With milk, with strong meats, with the bread of life,
Like a true mother, and our Saviours wife.

Here followeth the Relation of the most famous preaching Cobler Samuel Howe.

A Short relation of some of the mighty Miracles done by the Apostles in the name and power of Iesus.

Three thousand Soules, S. Peter in one day,

Act. 2. 41.

By preaching, turn'd into the heavenly way;
He cur'd the Cripple, reade but Acts the third,
Strooke dead two deep dissemblers with his word:

Acts 5. 1.

Cur'de old Æneas, palsied, weak, and lame,

Acts 9. 34.

These things Saint Peter did in Iesus name.
Cur'd people with his shadow, and reviv'd
Tabitha (whom Death had of life depriv'd,

Acts 9. 40,

And after (fetter'd) in close prison shut,
An Angell him at liberty did put.
Let me see one of you such rare things doe,
And then Ile say you have the Spirit too.
Saint Paul gave Sergius Paulus heavenly light,

Acts 12. 7.

Inchanting Elimas he reav'd of sight;
Did Lidia and the Jaylour both convert,

Acts 13. & 16.

And did the holy Ghost to twelve impart,

Acts 19. 16.

And they straitwaies spake severall tongues most plain,
And I believe ne're went to schoole again.
If Napkins or handkerchiefes did but touch
The corpes of Paul, the force of faith was such,
That fiends did flie, and vexed soules had rest;
And from possest men devils were dispossest,
And were but some of you well hang'd or whip'd,
And that your shirts were from your corpses strip'd
Or else your whip, or halter well would try,
If (by their touch) they'd make the devils flie,
And leave possession, I dare lay my life
There's many a man would use them on his wife.
But no such vertue doth from you ensue,
For if there did, the devill would flie from you.
Sweet Brethren of the Sect of Ignoramus,
You that despise Te Deum and Laudamus,
You that doe for our humane learning blame us,
I wonder what Religion you would frame us;
You, without any learning, barbarous, rude,
How dare you sacrilegiously intrude
In Church-affaires, not being call'd or sent,
And with your brazen faces impudent,
To pick Gods secret Closset ope, and pry
(Most saucy) In th'Almighties secrecy:
Is't not enough, you have his Will reveal'd,
But you'le needs know his secret will conceal'd,
Break up the closset doore, and boldly get
Into th'eternall, heavenly Cabinet.
This is a theft contemptible most high,
(Transcendent Felony and Burglary)
And those proud thieves, at doomes day must not looke
To be repriev'd, or saved by their booke.
Some there have been, so malapertly mad,
To guesse what talk Christ with the Doctors had:
To know where Moses body buried lies,
Where Edens garden was, or paradise,
What God did doe before the world he fram'd,
And where hell stands (appointed for the damn'd)
These curious Constables would search and peepe
Through heaven, earth, sea, aire, and th'infernal deep,
And for their needlesse studies, paines, and care,
They do conclude (like Cox-combs) as they are,
In boasting knowledge they themselves advance,
When all their skill is blinded ignorance.
All you of this pure self-conceited Sect,
That brag your selves to be the Lords Elect,
Me thinkes it is too much for you or yours,
To be Gods Courtiers, not his Counsellours;
Where have you that rare revelation found,
The Scriptures closest mysteries to expound:
Is it because you wit and learning want,
Or will the truth dwell with the ignorant:
Must the best preachers be unlearned fooles?
Then downe with Universities and Schooles,
Your Libraries, your Halls, and Colledges,
If ignorance surpasse your knowledges.
The word of God was faithfully translated
By learned men, o're-spread and propagated:
'Twas done by Schollers, had it not been done
Till you had don't, we all had been undone.
Ye'r bid to search the Scriptures 'tis confest,
You are not bid the Scriptures sence to wrest,
To metamorphose, alter, wring, and wrie
Gods Word according to your fantasie,
Ye 'have leave to heare, or reade it, 'tis not fit
You, or your Kennell should interpret it;
For should we trust to your interpretation,
We should have an unhandsome Congregation.
When God declar'd his Law in dreadfull thunder
Upon Mount Sinai, full of feare and wonder,

Exod. 19. 12.

'Twas present death to any that was there,
That dar'd to touch the hill, or come too neere.
When as the Ark was back return'd again,
That seven monthes with the Philistines had lain,
Then fifteen hundred Bethshemites were strooke

1 Sam. 6. 19.

Stark dead, for daring in the Ark to looke.
When Vzzah, fearing that the Ark would fall,

2 Sam. 6. 7.

Put to his hand, was straight strook dead withall,
His office only was to drive the Cart,
To touch the Arke was no part of his part.
Since Vzzah for his good will to hold up
The falling Ark, did taste deathes bitter cup;
Since those that once to looke into it dar'd,
Or those that toucht Mount Sinai were not spar'd,
What can a Cobler look for, or a Knave,
Who in the Church (or Arke) no function have?
Yet dares most saucily to preach and prate
Against all orders, learning, Church, and State.
It is most lamentable that so far,
Men so besotted, or be-devill'd are,
That witlesse Rascals are held more divine
Then Ierome, Ambrose, Gregorie, Augustine,
Or all the ancient Fathers (in a word)
Their learnings and their labours held absurd
By scabs, and varlets, of no worth or merit,
But impious boasting of th'inspiring Spirit;
And had each one of you his right and due,
Your spirit should be sharply whip'd from you,
And when you felt the acutenesse of the lash,
You would esteem your doctrine Balderdash.
For in Saint Austins time, he made complaint,
That eighty two Sects did the Church attaint;
Since when, could I all Heresies recount,
The number (trouble) treble will amount;
Yet in that Fathers daies, that reverend man
Did ne're heare of the Sect call'd Puritan,
And sure the name of Puritan doth yeeld,
A good mans nickname, and a bad mans shield,
It is a cover for a cheating Knave,
And 'tis a jeare, a good man to deprave;
But both the good and bad, what e're they be,
They get no name of Puritan from me.
I write of Separatists, and Schismatiques,
Of shallow-pated, harebrain'd Heretiques,
Such as doe make the Text a Lesbian rule,
Whose faith or reason (like the Horse or Mule)
Whom neither Law, or sence can curb or bridle,
Who ne're are well imploy'd, nor never idle.
A man may well compare those Separatists
Unto the hot Gun-powder Romanists:
For though they doe each other deadly hate,
And one the other faine would ruinate,
Yet both in their conclusions doe agree,
The ruine of our Church and State to be.
Their head's (like Sampsons Foxes) sundred wide,
But yet their tailes are fast together ty'd;
For both doe joyntly joyn, and both desire,
With fire-brand zeale to set our Corn on fire.
To spoile our Government established,
And (through the world) most famous published,
They joyne together to consume and burne,
And with confusion waste and overturne
All ancient order, rule, and decency,
And doctrine, from the prime antiquity.
Thus both the grounds, & aimes of both those Sects
Agree both (in their tailes) for their effects,
How er'e their heads, East, West, South, North, may sever,
Their ends are one, to seek our downfal ever.
And of these two opposers (I'le bar swearing)
'Tis hard to know which barrell's better Herring:
But (of the twaine) a man shall alwaies finde
The Schismatique most obstinate inclin'd,
And the more ignorant he is, the worse,
Most stubborne, sencelesse, shallow in discourse;
The Papist makes some shew of wit and sence,
And seeming reason for his false pretence,
And from him I may something gain, whereby
My faith (more firmly) I may fortifie;
For though I doe not credit his dispute,
Yet (by disputing) I may gaine some fruit.
But from the other side I dare presume,
I shall have nothing else but froth and fume,
With hasty answers, peevish, testy, snappish,
Untoward, wayward, nonsence, fruitlesse, apish.
These, none but these hold learning in disdain,
And all for use divine, accurst, and vaine,
All humane knowledge therefore they detest,
Th'unlearn'd (they say) do know the Scriptures best:
That humane learning breeds confusion,
Most fit for Ægypt, Rome, and Babylon,
And that the learned ones were, are, and shall
Be ignorant of humane learning all.
These with some other idle fancies mix'd,
In their unfix'd opinions are all fix'd.
But stay (my Muse) hold, whither wilt thou gad?
The learned Reader sure will thinke thee mad,
Because thou art so tiring, tedious, long
About these Screetchowles with thy Cuckoes song:
And though I seeme those Caitiffes to condemne,
Yet idle babling makes me seeme like them,
'Tis best therefore, no longer time to spend,
But some few lines, and briefly make an end.

[A zealous brother did a sister meete]

A zealous brother did a sister meete,
And greeted sweetly in the open streete;
Thou holy woman, where hast been said he,
I came from a baptizing Sir (quoth she)
Pray whose childe was it (he again requires)
She answerd, such a Taylors in Black-fryers,
Hee's one of us, the man reply'd again,
Hee's one (quoth she) that doth the truth maintain;
Quoth he, what might the childe baptized be?
Was it a Male She, or a Female He?
I know not which, but 'tis a Son she said,
Nay then (quoth he) a wager may be laid;
It had some Scripture name, yes, so it had
Said she, but my weak memorie's so bad
I have forgot it, 'twas a godly name,
Though out of my remembrance be the same:
'Twas one of the small Prophets verily,
It was not Esay, nor yet Ieremie,
Ezekiel, Daniel, nor good Obadias,
And now I doe remember, 'twas Golias.

[Another sister (as the Spirit rap't her)]

Another sister (as the Spirit rap't her)
Said to her Boy, come sirrha, reade a Chapter;
The Boy por'd on the Book, and fumbling sate,
And had more minde to be at Ball or Cat;
His mother said, why dost not reade thou knave,
The Boy ask'd her what Chapter she would have:
Thou paltry Imp (quoth she) canst thou finde none
'Twixt Genesis, and Revelation;
To learne thy duty, reade no more but this,
Pauls nineteenth Chapter unto Genesis.

[On London Bridge I lately did confer]

On London Bridge I lately did confer
About some businesse with a Stationer:
A young man came into the Shop, and sought
Some holy Ballads, which he view'd and bought,
And there he pray'd the Shop-keeper to looke
The Epistles of Saint Ovid (a fine Book)
Upon Saint Peter, Paul, Iohn, Iude, or Iames,
They will not put the Saint unto their names,
But yet their ignorance impure, precise,
A heathen Poets name can Canonize.

[One Mapleton, at Reding late did dwell]

One Mapleton, at Reding late did dwell:
Because his flesh did 'gainst his minde rebell,
He cut it off so close unto the stumpe,
That he scarce left himselfe a pissing pump;
And hee's one of those wise men, and 'twere good
That all the Tribe of his sweet Brotherhood
Would follow his example on themselves,
Then they would not beget more froward Elves:
Then peace and rest our Church and State should gain;
All windmills, and vagaries of the brain
Would from unquiet England banish'd be,
And from disturbance we should soon be free.
These, with the rest (unknowne) may be compar'd,
Whose love to learning I have plain declar'd.
To wofull passe our Church were quickly brought:
If these companions had but what they sought,
From Rome, from them, from all that wrong us thus
Good Lord of Heaven and Earth deliver US.

Postscript.

RELIGIONS ENEMIES.

WITH A BRIEF AND INGENIOUS Relation, as by Anabaptists, Brownists, Papists, Familists, Atheists, and Foolists, sawcily presuming to tosse Religion in a Blanquet.

A Pedlar and a Romish priest in a very hot Discourse, full of Mirth, truth, Wit,Folly, and plain-dealing.

Pedl.
Now good sir Iohn (quoth he) what talk is that
I heare you speak, but God in Heauen knowes what.

Priest.
It is that worthy holy Lattin letter
Doth please the Lord wel and our lady better.

Pedl.
Now good Sir Iohn, I know not what they be
The Lattin tongue is heathen Greeke to me.

Priest.
Pedlar if thou to me wilt but repaire
Within one Month, I'le teach thee Lattin Prayer.
And though thou understand not what thou sayst,
Thou shalt speake pretty Lattin when thou prayest

Pedlar
To pray so sir, is onely but in saying,
In words, not sence, a prating, not a praying;
Shall I that am a man of perfect age,
Talke like a witlesse parret in a Cage.

Priest.
A parret can but prattle for her part,
But towards God hath neither mind or heart.
Then seeing I have head and heart to pray,
Shall not my heart know what my tongue doth say?
For when my tongue talkes, if my heart mis-carry,
How quickly I may marre your Ave Mary?
And I sir having many things to seeke,
How should I speed not knowing what I speake.

Priest.
God understands all tongues, & knows, & he
The thoughts and secrets of the heart doth see.

Pedl.
Then if I think one thing and speak another,
I wrong my selfe, and Christ, and his blest Mother;
For when I pray they would my pack repaire,
Your Ave mary is a fruitlesse prayer.

Priest.
The Latin prayers are but generall heads,
For our Reliefes in all our wants and needs:
The Latin serves us as a Liturgie,
As curious Arts directs Chirurgery,
And in that language Masse is said and sung,
For private things pray in thy Mother tongue.

Ped.
Then I must have a tongue, sir Iohn, for either,
1 for the Mother and 1 for the Father.

Prie.
Thinkst thou the Mother doth not know such small things,
Christ is her Son man, and he tells her all things.
But where did that blest Virgin learne her Latin,
For in her daies was neither Masse nor Mattin,
Nor yet one Priest that Latin then could speake,
For holy words were Hebrew then or Greeke,
She never was at Rome, nor kist Popes feet,
How came she by the Masse faine would I weet.

Priest.
Pedlar, if thou beleeve the Legendary,
The Masse is older farre then Christ or Mary,
For all the Patriarkes both more or lesse,
And great Melchisedeck himselfe said Masse.

Pedl.
But good sir priest, spake al these Fathers Latin
And said they Masse in golden Coapes or Satin;
Could they speake Latin long e're Latin grew,
(For without Latin no Masse can be true)
And you that would inforce us to this taske,
Me thinkes 'tis like a may-game or a masque.

Priest.
Well Pedlar thou art too too curious,
Thy pur-blinde Zeal's fervent, but furious,
I rather would a hundred monkes direct,
Then such an ignorant of thy mad sect;
This thou must know, this cannot be deni'd,
Rome govern'd all when Christ was crucifi'd.
Rome, Heathen then, but afterwards converted,
And grew so honest, and so holy-hearted,
That now our Emperour is turn'd to a pope,
Whose Holines (as you have heard I hope,
Hath made a Law that all the world must pray
In Latin language to the Lord each day;
He's Christ's full Vicar, and Ile boldly say,
That what he doth command we must obey,
He bids us pray in Latin, even so
We must doe, where we understand or no,
He hath full power to confound or save,
And who dares then but doe as he will have.

Pedl.
This purpose to some purpose puts me back,
And hath more points, then pinnes are in my pack,
What ever power you give unto your pope,
He cannot make a man an Ape, I hope,
And if he be full Vicar to our Lord,
Should not his words and Christs keepe one accord.

Priest.
Doubtles they doe, and never are contrary,
In Pater noster, Creed, or Avemary.

Ped.
But Christs Disciples when they made their motion,
Vnto their Master, how to make devotion,
As I have done to you (sir Iohn) to day;
I pray you in what tongue bade he them pray,
Christ did not one word Latin to them speake,
Their talke was then all Siriack, Hebrew, Greeke,
He bade all Nations pray after one manner,
But bade not all take Latin for their Banner:
Your Latin is but one of the Translations,
Why should it then exclude all other Nations;
And on my soule, sir Iohn, if I doe say,
In mine owne mother tongue when I doe pray
Lord helpe me, Lord forgive me all my sinnes,
Yea (why not) Lord supply my packe and pinnes.
And every thing whereof I stand in need,
(For this depends upon our daily bread)
I hope in God that I shall speed as well,
As if in Latin I my wants did tell:
And since some tongues have more antiquitie
Then Latin, were it not iniquitie
To force all people to pray like the Pope,
No good (sir Iohn) you'l not say so I hope.

Priest.
Wel pedlar, one thing I would faine make plain,
Return we to our Lady back again,
And if thou hadst as much capacitie
As roving wit, with great audacitie,
The case is cleare, that Virgin Mary meeke,
Could all and every tongue and language speake.
Hast thou not heard man how the Holy Ghost,
Came downe like cloven tongues, at pentecost,
And fill'd the house where all the 12. were ready,
And one tongue truly lighted on our Lady,
And thinke not that I talke of toyes and dreames,
Aske but the Reverend Jesuites of Rhemes,
And what they write of this but wisely note.

Ped.
In faith sir Iohn it is not worth a groat;
Will I beleeve't thinke you because they say it;

Priest.
Nay but they prov't as no man can denay it;
Saith not the Text, that when the Lord ascended,
Vnto the 12. he earnestly commanded,
That from Ierusalem they should not goe,
Vntill the Comforter did come, and so

Act. 1.

They all conjoyned with one joynt consent,
And to an upper roome together went,
Where Mary was and others whole six score,
That with the 12. did daily God adore.
Then (sayes the text) when Pentecost was come,
They were together then both all and some,
And all were filled with the Holy Ghost.

Ped.
Now good sir Priest you count without your Host,
I see well that your Rhemish Jesuites tongues,
Hath cloven the text even to the very lungs.
That (ALL) for which you reckon up six score,
Is here meant onely of the 12. no more;
Nor Mary is not named there as than,
What need we then beleeve it, holy man,
On with your spectacles sir Iohn and read,
And credit this as one point of your Creed,
The Holy Ghost did fall upon no more,
Then he was promised unto before:
Now he was onely promised to the twelve,
Looke on the text, I pray, and iudge your selve;
Speake man, and be not silent, I am sorry,
To see you ignorant of such a story;
For shame, let not a pedlar with his packe,
Put you with all your Sophistrie to wracke.
For as the Stories in themselves are divers,
Flowing and falling into sundry Rivers,
In divers Chapttrs so they stand divided,

the 1. & 2. chap.

So that the case may clearely be decided;
For when those 6. score were at first convened,
There was another mysterie then meaned;
To wit, Mathias free Election,
And so Saint Peter gave direction,
That all those six score then should beare record
Of their proceedings then before the Lord:
The choosing of a pastour was in hand,
Which without Churches knowledge cannot stand,
And so Mathias, (by the power of Heaven)
By lot was tooke as one with the Eleven.
Then (saies the the Text) all these together were,
What all these were doth very plaine appeare,
To be the 12. in the last verse before,
And not make Leape Yeare of eleven verse more.
To draw all backe to that hundred and twentie,
Indeed this way should have tongues in plentie,
They differ in 12. verses, the Text saies,
Besides the time is different full 10. dayes,
The first upon the day the Lord ascended,
The other when the holy Ghost descended.
Such glaZen arguments will bide no hammer,
For they are but bad Logick and worse Grammer;
As for the Holy Ghost 'tis verifide,
His comming downe, unto no Law is tide;
Sometimes invisible, and sometimes seene,
As diversly at divers times hath beene,
Few needes to see his comming with their eyes,
His workes are witnesses which may suffice;
And so Saint Paul this gift found privately,
By Annanias hand assuredly.

Act. 9.

And so, sir Iohn, to shew you all my packe,
And let you see my breast as well as backe;
I wonder yee consider not the end,
Why God the Holy Ghost in Tongues did send:
Know ye not women are forbidden preaching,
Know ye not tongues were onely given for teaching;
Women (at home) have hardly leave to speake,
But they take leave, and often silence breake;
Their husbands must permit their tongues to walke,
And therefore, in Gods House, they may not talke:
And then, sir Iohn, what worship doe you win
Vnto our Lady, when you bring her in
As a Companion with the whole six score,
Who gat the Holy Ghost and she no more,
And where the Pope hath made her Queen of heaven,
You make her here like one of the Eleven,
In this, her dignitie doth seeme to fall,
You thrust her to the Kitchin from the Hall.
And this is also one of your rare Themes,
Held by your reverend Jesuites of Rhemes,
That Latin came not with the Holy Ghost,
VVhen as the tongues came downe at Pentecost.
Now if it came not then I pray, expresse
How came it by that perfect holines,
That in it onely, and no other tongue,
Both Masse and matins must be said and sung.
Your last refuge will be unto the Pope,
So knit up all together in a Rope.

Pri.
Wert thou at Rome, & half these words didst speak,
Pedlar it were enough thy neck to break;
But here you live, and talk and prate secure,
And undervalue that blest Virgin pure,
Yeelding no honour, or no adoration
To her, or to her dayes of celebration.
(Goe but to Spaine, and shew thy vild condition,
Thou shalt be tortur'd in the Inquisition.)
Her Miracles, of small worth you esteeme,
Her merits at low value you misdeeme,
Her sacred Reliques you condemne, dispise,
And all her attributes you much misprise:
Thou saist with six score I doe make her share,
Your selves will her with your course wives compare,
Shame and confusion doth to all belong,
Who dare the best, most blest of creatures wrong.

Pedl.
Indeed (sir Iohn) you come upon me now,
With some things which my faith doth disallow,
I pray you to consider but a little,
You give her many a title and a tittle,
For which you have no warrant in the word,
And yet pursue us both with fire and Sword,
As Heretiques, for doing not as yee doe,
Yet, what the word bids and no more that we doe;
Thinke you that anie man can be so mad,
As to hold Christ his Saviour, and so bad,
As to hold Mary for his Saviours Mother,
And not to love her farre above all other,
Above all Creatures, she was full of grace,
And sure in Glory she hath supreme place
And eminence, all other Soules transcending
In joy and blisse, that never shall have ending.
The Holy Ghost inspir'd her beyond measure,
She was possest with Heaven & earths whole treasure,
And grant she could speake Latin, and all Tongues,
Yet Masse or Mattins to her not belongs.
Of all that mortall were she was the best,
And her immortall soule is now most blest.
Her memorable Honour to preserve,
Her dayes of celebration we observe,
The Feast of her Annuntiation,
Her cleare and pure Purification,
The Church (in reverence) hath ordain'd these dayes,
On which we should send up our prayers and praise,
To our good God, whose mercie was so great,
To leave his glorious and immortall Seate,
And to the blessed Virgins wombe he came,
And tooke on him our filthy sinne and shame;
And on these dayes we pray that we may be,
The Virgins followers in Humilitie,
That our true meeknesse, and our lowlines,
May raise us to eternall blessednes;
We hold it the sure way to our salvation,
To follow her in holy imitation;
Through heavenly influence her excellence,
Must be admir'd with love and reverence,
And those that dare compare most sawcily,
Their wives or mothers with her sanctitie,
Are sawcie knaves in pride and ignorance,
Or Atheists, fit to lead the hang-mans dance;
We love her then, though we beleeve not in her,
Nor (by will-worship) doe we thinke to win her;
We hold her blessed for Christs flesh conceiving,
But farre more blessed for Christs faith receiving:
She was his mother, so 's the Church his wife,
Which was to him much dearer then his life,
Now if that one could fall at oddes with th'other,
He would respect his wife before his mother;
For who so to him once a wife doth take,
Must father, mother, friends and kin forsake.
And this is every Spouses carriage,
But most in this spirituale marriage,
As Maries mother of Christs humane life,
She's but the Daughter of his heavenly wife,
By which meanes onely, faith doth me perswade,
Of Christ blest body she's a member made;
Whereby these glorious Titles she hath won,
Maid, mother, wife, and sister to her Sonne.
All this sir Iohn I doe but briefly say,
To let you see you play us much foule play.

Pri.
Well Pedlar, tho that pack about thou beare,
Th'art some apostate Monke or Frier I feare,
Of Luthers love, or Calvins cursed crew,
And sent abroad such businesse to brew,
Disguised like the person of some Pedlar.

Ped.
No faith (sir Iohn) I am not such a medler,
Nor have I mind or meanes, so high to mount,
A little I can read and cast account,
My wits are weake to utter Rime or Reason,
I know not what you call your Kerrieleison.
So help me God (sir Iohn) I know no better,
Nor in your Latin can I read a letter,
For Latin is a Language admirable,
And my poore friends and parents were unable,
To purchase one scrap of it, for my share,
And sure without it I can sell my ware,
And though I have no Latin, yet I can
Aske what I want of either God or man,
In mine owne mother tongue, I know and see,
How simple soules by you abused bee.
And how your doctrine half our praiers would carry,
From Christ our Saviour to the Virgin Mary,
I also doe perceive how you doe frame,
Strange innovations to that heavenly Dame,
Ascribing her that honour, which to none
Is due, but onely unto God alone:
Of which she takes small notice, nor will she
For it, at any time your helper be.

Priest.
Read but the Legend, Pedlar, and ther view
Her miracles, approve her honour due,
For which the Pope in Latin doth preferre,
That Masse and matins must be said to her.
Read, and consider, and believe it well,
Or else thou art at least half wayes in hell.

Ped.
Sure Hell is not within the Popes commission,
Though purgatorie, and the Inquisition,
Are things which he himselfe of late created,
Yet of small worth, by wise men they are rated;
I answer as I oft before have said
I love, and reverence that blest mother maid,
But I beleeve in God, and when I pray,
Christ help me (when my soule or corps doe stray)
And so what e're I either have or want,
I neither pray to he or to she Saint;
And as for Tongues, I have but one, no more,
And wot ye well, although I had six score,
I would conforme my selfe to Pauls commanding,
Pray with my tongue, pray with my understanding.
Think you the twelve, when they receiv'd the tongues,
Talkt, and knew not whereto their talk belongs,
Yeelding a sound not knowing what they said,
Idle in preaching, ideler when they pray'd,
No, each of them knew well what he did say,
And why not we (sir Iohn) as well as they;
For since each man hath one tongue at command,
Shall men speake tongues they do not understand?
Alas good sir, had I been train'd at Schoole,
As I am but a sillie simple Foole,
A hundred Questions more I might have moved,
But here I cease for feare to be reproved,
For these few doubts I learn'd in sundry places,
Me thinkes such men as you should cleare all cases.

Priest.
Now Pedlar, I confesse thou putst me to it,
But one thing I will tell thee if thou'lt doe it;
If to our Prior thou wilt with me goe backe,
Perhaps he will buy all that's in thy packe,
And teach thee better how to pray then any,
For such a holy man there are not many,
Be here to morrow Betweene six and seven,
And thou wilt find thy selfe halfe waies in Heaven.

Ped.
Content sir Iohn, but there is one thing more,
I must have your opinion in before,
Suppose the holy Priour have no leisure,
To talke of every purpose at our pleasure,
Your Booke which is the golden Legend nam'd,
(Wherein as many lies as lines are fram'd)
And, on my conscience, I doe thinke that you,
Doe know the most on't to be most untrue;
And therefore tell me sir before you goe,
Whether your selves beleeve it, yea or no.

Priest.
Yes verily we doe beleeve it all,
And hold it holy and authenticall.

Ped.
Then Ile repeat a tale or two in prose,
Which few wise men beleeve as I suppose.

What think you now (sir Iohn) is this good stuffe,
It edifies me, much like blind man buffe;
Is't not a shame, that you these things dare doe,
To wrong poore people, and our Ladie to;
You have no starting hole, nor no excuse
To cover or to colour your abuse;
But by your leave, I'le tell a tale or twaine
In prose, and fall into our Verse againe.
Pri.
Thy blinded Zeale my very heart doth grieve,
Thou understandst not what thou should believe,
Thinkst thou so many Grave and learned men,
Have liv'd and dy'd in bleare-ey'd errours den,
Dost thinke all Popes, all Cardinalls, all lyers,
Abbots, most zealous Monkes, most holy Fryers.
Dost thinke all these for many a hundred yeare,
Did not professe and know the Truth sincere?
These men maintain'd the Church in glorious state,
Till Luther and curst Calvin 'gan to prate.

Ped.
Like as a Squirrill skips from tree to tree,
Euen so (sir Iohn) you from the matter flee:
Our talke was Latin, and our Lady first,
And you to other arguments out burst.
I tell you I that Virgin love and honour,
Although my prayers doe not wait upon her,
Nor doe I hold her Reliques of such price,
To raise soules to the heavenly Paradise.
You her suppos'd apparell doe adore,
Haire-lace and Slippers (which she never wore)
Her Combe, her Girdle and her Gowne of filke,
Her apron and the pot that held her milke,
Her cloake, her Hankerchiefe, her Hood, her Haire,
To these you mumble many a Latin prayer,
And therefore I defie you, and in sadnes,
I hold such holines a kind of madnes;
And so, sir Iohn, we two will make an end,
And each of us about his Busines wend.
Yet e're we part I would fall to againe,
And of the Latin speake a word or twaine,
There was but one tongue at the Birth of Abel,
And many at the building up of Babel,
A wicked work, which God would have confounded,
But when Christ came, all tongues again resounded,
To build his Church, by his Apostles teaching;
Which was in praying sure as well as preaching;
For prayer is the full and true perfection
Of holy service (saving your correction)
Then if our Lord to mine owne tongue be readie,
What need I then with Latin move our Ladie,
Or if to both my prayers must be in,
I pray sir tell wth which should I begin,
And to pray jointly to them both as one,
Your Latin prayers then are quickly gone?
For Pater noster never will accord
With her, nor Ave Mary with our Lord.
If I have him, what need I seek another,
Or will he nothing doe without his Mother,
And this (sir Priest) was much in Question,
Disputed long, with deep disgestion,
Whether the Ave Mary should be said
To God, or to our Lady when they pray'd,
With which Saint Andrewes University,
Was puzled with a strange diversity,
And sate so long they cooled all their Kale,
At last the Master Cooke heard of the tale,
And like a mad man ran among the Clergy,
Crying with many a Domine me asperge,
To give the Pater noster to the Father,
And Avies to our Lady altogether,
And every man may thinke (that wise or grave is)
She's more then satisfied with Creeds and Aves.
At which the Clergie (fearing more confusion)
Were all contented with the Cookes conclusion.

Priest.
Pedlar, this tale, is of thee coyned new;

Ped.
Sir Iohn Ile leese my packe if't be not true:
Againe, all learned Monkes and Fryers have read,
How Christ himselfe taught us of his owne head,
That every soule that is with sinne opprest,
Should come to him, and he would give them rest:
Come all to me (said he) not to another,
Come all to me (said he) not to my Mother.
And If I doe as our good Lord commanded,
I know our Lady will no wayes withstand it.
And so if I should say my prayers in Lattin,
Unto the Lord at Even-song or at Matin,
And never understand what I were saying,
Thinke you the Lord would take it for true praying,
No sure, he will not, for I truly know,
My tongue and heart must both together goe,
And hereupon I'le tell you what befell,
To learned Clearkes, that Latin well could spell,
With whom by chance I lodged at an Inne,
Whereas an old wife on her wheele did spin,
And towards evening she fell to and pray'd,
But neither they or I knew what she said,
One said she canted, others said she mumbled,
And still strange language from her lips she fumbled,
Round run her wheele, and round her tongue did run,
She mumbled and she slaver'd, and she spun;
What think you now sir Iohn of this old Hussie,
Where was her heart when as she was so busie.
At last (said one) Dame wot you what you say,
No, not (quoth she) but well I wot I pray;
You pray (quoth he) and know not what I grant,
Alas how can you be so ignorant.
The woman, musing little at the motion,
Said, ignorance is Mother of Devotion.
If Ignorance be mother then (said he)
Sure darknesse must her onely daughter be;
Pray'd you, (quoth I) when al the time you span,
What matters that, quoth she God's a good man,
And knowes what I speak in the Latin tongue,
Either at Matins or at Even-song.
Alas, good sir, was not this wife abus'd,
Whose soule and sences all were so confus'd,
You know these unknown tongues can profit no man,
And one tongue is enough for any woman;
But when we pray in true sinceritie,
As God commands in spirit and veritie,
The heart sends up the tongue as Messenger
Unto the Lord, a pleasant passenger.

Priest.
But Pedlar, here's a prettie little Booke,
Wherein if thou wilt spare the time to looke,
Set forth by a good Catholicke Divine,
Which out of doubt will settle thy ingine
With it, thy conscience will be better fram'd,
The Gag of the new Gospel it is nam'd:
He clearely proves by Zacharies example,
When he did sacrifice vvithin the Temple,
And all the people prayd and stood vvithout,
They knevv not then what tongue he spake no doubt;
Ergo the Masse may be both said and sung,
In other language then our mother Tongue.

Ped.
Sir Iohn I see your holy Catholicke,
Upon the Text hath put a pretty tricke,
Did Zachary speake in a Latin stile,
When all the people staid without the while,
He was a Jew sure, and knew Hebrew well,
And spake no Latin for ought you can tell;
For if the people heard not what he said,
Could they or you know in what tongue he pray'd
Since understanding commeth by the eare,
He cannot understand that doth not heare.
Prove it that Zachary spake Latin, then
I'le say all Monkes and Fryers are honest men.
Because a learned Priest may pray in Latin,
And mumble o're his Even-song, Masse, and Matin,
Ergo a Pedlar to the Lord may pray,
And know no sillable that he doth say,
So when you put me to your Pater noster,
I aske an Egge when I would have an Oister.
And seeing thus our Faiths doe disagree,
That neither I with you, nor you with mee
Can be united, with one minde and heart,
I thinke it best we take our leaves and part.
I'le pray that God, in Grace and mercy, would
Bring all his straying Flock into his Fold.

A full and compleat Answer against the Writer of a late Volume set forth, entituled A Tale in a Tub,

or A Tub Lecture: with a Vindication of that ridiculous name called Round-Heads.

First, The Complaint of the abused most ridiculous Round-heads.

Verses upon the defacing of Cheapeside Crosse, with the Pictures of Christ and Saint Peter.

How? steale the leade from Cheapeside-crosse (O base)
I'le take my oath on't 'tis a heavy case:
Some say the Devill did it, and I graunt
The Devill is a mighty Puritant.
He never could endure the Crosse, because,
Man (on the Crosse) was ransomd from his claws;
But whosoe're 'twas, Brownist, Punk or Pimp:
If not the Devill, 'twas the Devils Impe,
What e're he may pretend, he is a Grosse
Dam'd Iew, that tortures Christ upon the Crosse.
I wonder why the watchmen did not scare Vm,
Sure 'twas some sleeping watch that lackt a larum
And so St. Peter (whom our Saviour chose)
One of his twelve Apostles, had his Nose,
And both his Armes knockt of, where was the Cock
That did not wake S. Peter at that knock?
Christ made him an Apostle, now who can
Without his Arms make him a Gentleman?
Some Crop-eare did it in revenge I feare,
Because St. Peter cut off Malchus eare.
What did the babe, what did our Lady do?
Poore Innocents alas, they suffered too.
This shews the Devils brood, like th'Irish wild,
Will spare no man or woman, maid or child:
Now my opinion of the crosse is this,
It is amisse to such as make't amisse.
To such as reverence it, or adore it,
Or say their prayers to it, or before it.
Such do pervert it from its proper use,
And turn an Ornament to an abuse.
Turks, Infidels, Moores, Pagans, Heathen, Iewes,
They know not Christ, therefore no Crosses use.
And no true Christian justly can repine,
To let a Crosse stand as a Christian signe.
Knaves may deface it, fooles may worship it,
All which may be for want of grace or wit,
To those that wrongd the Crosse this is my curse,
They never may have crosses in their purse.

A Plea for PREROGATIVE:

OR, Give Cæsar his due. Being the Wheele of Fortune turn'd round: Or, The World turned topsie-turvie.

A Plea for Prerogative: OR, Give Cæsar his due.

The Divel's horne-mad, Religion here should florish,
Or England constantly the Truth should nourish:
And He (contriving with the Romish Sect)
They soon a hellish stratagem project,
That with a strange blast of a Powder-blow,
Into the Ayre the Parliament to throw,
And with a whirle-winde terrour to appall
Gods Word profest, the Court, the State and all
Records, Lawes, Statutes, Grants, Decrees and Charters,
Men, women, children (piece-meale torne in quarters;)
Magnifique Buildings, pompous Monuments;
Illustrious guildings, sumptuous ornaments;
King, Prince, Peeres, Commons, with one puffe should caper,
And (in a moment) turn'd to ayre and vapour.
The Divell and Rome are all starke mad at this,
That they, their great desired aime should misse,
Devis'd more mischiefes from th'infernall pit,
To make us this deliverance to forget,
And be ingratefull to that power above,
Who this great danger from us did remove;
For Sathan knowes, that base ingratitude
Doth all, and every damned vice include;
And therefore 'tis the totall of transgressions
To be unthankfull for Gods gracious blessings:
There's nothing else drawes down th'Almighties hate,
It hath dismembred wretched Englands state;
Pride, avarice, lust, hath broke our happy peace,
And daily do our sins, and shames increase.
He's a wise man (that without danger) can
Serve God his King, and be an honest man;
For (in these dayes) to speak truth and do right,
Is paid with scandall, danger and despight.
Thus vice is entred, vertue is thrust out,
And Fortunes Wheele is madly turn'd about;
Peace, Love, Religion and Obedience
Are vertues of exceeding excellence;
Yet as the Picture in the Wheele doth show,
They are turn'd downwards in the spokes below,
Whilst Malice, War, Sects and Disloyalty
Are in the upper spokes, exalted high,
And true Obedience neuer did refuse,
To give to God and Cæsar both their dues;
Though she be humble, free from arrogance,
Yet her humility doth her advance:
And though she be trod downe, I make no doubt
But Fortunes Wheel will shortly turn about:
Disloyalty doth proudly over-top her,
And makes a glistring guilded shew of copper,
Full of corruption, basenesse and deceit,
Deluding and most feigned counterfeit.
Some do complain of Fortune and blinde chance,
And do their hands and eyes t'wards heaven advance;
And cry, O God (which madst the glorious Sun,)
What hath poore England 'gainst Religion done,
That all her goodnesse topsie turvie lyes
Derided, jeer'd at, wrong'd by contraries?
Religion was the sacred bond and tye,
The rule and square how men should live and dye;
The ground and sole foundation of the Law;
The good mans sword and shield, the bad mans awe;
Twas one entire in Majesty high stated,
Now broken, fractur'd, rent and dislocated;
Divided into Sects, in pieces shatter'd;
And (like a Beggers cloake) all patch'd and totterd.
And what hath England done to worke all this?
Nothing at all, but doing all amisse;
Esteeming earths corrupted fading drosse,
And slighting heaven, and true Religions losse.
These are the causes, these for vengeance cals;
This makes high climers to have loest fals,
When men seeke Honour with ambicious guile,
My little wit doth at their follies smile;
That though they seeme most glorious, great and stout,
Yet Fortunes Wheele will quickly turne about.
The potent Pope and Conclave of that Sect,
Did (and do) daily stratagems project.
The mungrill Papist, the Arminian,
The consubstanciall misled Lutheran;
The Anabaptists, Brownists, Arians,
Scismaticall Disciplinarians.
These, and more Sects of Seperatists beside,
Do from Religion to opinion slide;
And as they from each other disagree,
In various fashions God is serv'd we see.
Th'eternall Word's high Majesty is such
(That man can never honour it too much,)
Is turnd unto the lowest spoke o'th Wheele,
And too too few the overthrow doth feele.
The King, who is the Lords anointed knowne,
Whose Crownes and Kingdomes (under God's) his owne;
I will not say't t'oppresse, but true and just
To guide all under his great charge and trust;
Though he (next Christ) imediate power hath;
And his resisters merit heav'ns hot wrath:
Yet this is not remembred, very few
Will render Cæsar what is Cæsars due;
Which is obedience, loyalty and love
(Because his power is from the power above;)
But Church and State, are by the rabble rout
Abus'd; thus Fortunes wheele is turn'd about.
Religion (true) that ought to be the tye
From God to man, that man should rule thereby,
Is made a stable, a very staulking-horse,
Wherein each beast doth run a beastly course.
Religion now each ignoramus whirles
Into the fancies of fooles, boyes and girles,
Who dare talke of Misterious Canticicles
(Better then Bishops can) in their Conventickles.
They can finde out Daniels prophetique meaning,
And from the Bible they have so much gleaning,
That they dare venture with their quirks and quips
To expound Saint John and his Apocalips.
Thus they thinke we, and we thinke they are out,
But Fortunes wheele I hope will turne about.
Sects up are mounted, and their impudence
And ignorance hath drove Religion hence;
As once the Papists, in Queene Maries raigne,
The Protestant profession did disdaine;
When swords and halters, and tormenting flames,
Exiles, imprisonments, and all th'extreames
That hell or Roman mischiefe could devise,
The Gospell to suppresse by tyrannize;
And now the Almighty hath this Kingdome grac'd,
That Popish superstition is defac'd:
A crew of new Sects are sprung up of late,
As bad as Papists were to Church and State;
Whose barren knowledge seemes all things to know,
Who would all rule, and learning overthrow;
Whose wisdomes still are in the wane, most dull;
Whose ignorance is alwayes at the full;
Whose good workes are invisible, so good
Not to be seene, felt, heard, or understood:
Of these mad Sects, ther's too too many a wigeon,
That doth despise the Protestant Religion;
And worse then Papists they deride and flout,
But Fortunes wheele, I guesse, will turne about.
Peace (the same day that Christ rose from the grave)
Was the first gift He his Disciples gave;
And that his Peace should still with them remain

Ioh. 20. 19 26.

He (eight dayes after, gave them Peace again;
That Peace which passeth understanding all,

Phil. 4. 7.

Is racketed and bandied like a ball:
Warre, strife, contention, mischiefe and debate
Opposeth Peace, and seekes to ruinate
Faire England, by the meanes of men accurst,
Who wrong her most whom she hath bred and nurst.
And now against her Peace th'have madly fought,
But Fortunes wheele I know will turn about.
Love is the Livery, cognizance, and Crest
Christ gives his servants, who are ever blest;

Joh. 13. 35

Th'immortall God, left glorious heaven above,
And was made mortall (O transcendent Love!)
Nay more, he for his enemies did dye,
And rise, that they might live eternally.
He cald them brethren (so their loves to win)

Heb. 2. 12.

And made himselfe like them, in all but sin.
He cals each true beleeving soule his brother;
And lov'd us so, cause we should love each other:
But all this love which he bestow'd so free,
Is back repaid with Malice, as we see:
The Wheele doth shew us how the case doth stand,
Malice and hatred hath the upper hand;
Our words and works do shew we love him not;
Our love to one another is forgot;
We say and do the most part to this end
(He that so lov'd us) how we may offend;
And stead of loving one another, as
Our blessed Saviours last Commandment was,
With malice we would cut each others throats;
Which shewes we do not wear Christs livery coats:
And as Himselfe hath long agoe foretold,
Th'increase of sin makes many mens love cold.
Thus man his malice against man doth spout,
God grant the Wheele may quickly turne about.
Nor shall my Muse in this taske further run;
I wish the King and Parliament had done;
That as his Majesty is knowne to be
Gods chiefe vicegerent in his soveraignty;
So He with them may All as one combine
To settle things, both Humaine and Divine;
That we may be held free from all offence,
And gaine him hither, and not drive him hence
With Libels, tumults, and a wretched rout,
For which I'le hope the Wheele will turn about.

MAD FASHIONs, OD FASHIONS, All out of Fashions,

OR, The Emblems of these Distracted times.

Mad fashions, od fashions, all out of fashions,

OR, The Emblems of these distracted times.

The Picture that is Printed in the front
Is like this Kingdome, if you look upon't:
For if you well doe note it as it is,
It is a Transform'd Metamorphasis.
This Monstrous Picture plainely doth declare
This land (quite out of order) out of square.
His Breeches on his shoulders doe appeare,
His doublet on his lower parts doth weare;
His Boots and Spurs upon his Armes and Hands,
His Gloves upon his feet (whereon he stands)
The Church or'eturnd (a lamentable show)
The Candlestick above, the light below,
The Cony hunts the Dogge, the Rat the Cat,
The Horse doth whip the Cart (I pray marke that)
The Wheelbarrow doth drive the man (oh Base)
And Eeles and Gudgeons flie a mighty pace.
And sure this is a Monster of strange fashion,
That doth surpasse all Ovids Transformation.
And this is Englands case this very day,
All things are turn'd the Cleane contrary way;
For Now, when as a Royall Parliament,
(With King, and Peers, and Commons whole consent)
Have almost sate two yeeres, with paines and Cares,
And Charge, to free us from our Griefes and feares,
For when many a worthy Lord and Knight,
And good Esquire (for King and Countreys Right)
Have spent so much time with Great Toyle, and Heede,
All Englands Vicious garden how to weed,
So like a Wildernesse 'twas overrun,
That though much hath been done; All is not done.
The Devill doth perswade, entice and lurke,
And force bad men to set good men aworke.
That whilst the Worthies strive to right our wrongs,
And give to each man, what to him belongs;
Whil'st they take paines to settle all things heere,
An Irish Devill, doth madly domineere.
From Hells black Pit, begirt with Romish Armes,
Thousands of Locusts are in Troopes and Swarmes,
More Barbarous then the Heathen, worse then Iewes,
No Turkes or Tartars would such Tortures use.
Sure that Religion can no wayes be good,
That so inhumanly delights in Blood:
Nor doth that doctrine from the Scriptures spring,
That Subiects should Rebell against their King.
Nay (further) murder, ravish, spoile, deflowre,
Burne and lay waste, depopulate, devoure,
Not sparing Infants at the Breast or wombe,
(To die where first they liu'd, their Birth, their Tombe)
'Tis said no Serpent, Adder, Snake, or Toade,
Can live in Ireland, or hath there aboade:
'Tis strange that shee those Vipers doth not Kill,
That Gnawes her Bowells, and her blood doth spill,
Can Irish Earth Kill all things vennemous,
And can shee nurse such Vermin Mischievous:
Her owne sonnes Native, worse then Strangers Borne,
They have their Mothers Entrailes rent and torne,
Yet still her Indulgencie, harbours those,
And feeeds those Rebells that doe breed her woes:
God (in thy Mercy) give her strength and Ayde,
And courage, make her foes and ours dismay'd,
Thou Lord of Hosts, thine owne cause take in hand,
Thy foes (Thine Antichristian foes) withstand;
Defend thy truth, and all our Armies guide,
Our enemies to scatter and devide.
Thus leaving Ireland (with my hearty prayers)
To Brittaine back againe my Muse repaires:
Where I perceive a Metamorphosis,
Is most preposterous, as the Picture is,
The world's turn'd upside downe, from bad to worse,
Quite out of frame, The cart before the Horse.
The Felt-maker, and sawcie stable Groome
Will dare to Pearch into the Preachers Roome,
Each Ignorant, doe of the Spirit Boast,
And prating fooles brag of the holy-Ghost,
When Ignoramus will his Teacher Teach,
And Sow-gelders, and Coblers dare to preach,
This shewes, mens witts are monstrously disguis'd,
Or that our Countrey is Antipodis'd.
When holy Common Prayer, is by the Rable
Accounted Porridge, and unfruitfull Babble,
When our Beliefe is not so much as sed,
When as the Ten Commandments are not read,
When as the Lords Prayer is almost neglected,
When as all decencie is quite reiected,
When to avoid a Romish Papists name,
A man must be unmannerly, past shame,
When he that doth shew Reverence, doth offend,
And he seems best that will not bow or bend,
When he that into Gods House doth not come,
As to a Stable, or a Tipling Roome,
Is counted for a Popish favorite,
And branded so, despis'd, and scorn'd with spite.
When He that (of his wayes) doth conscience make,
And in his heart doth world, flesh, feind forsake,
Loves God with all his soule; adores no pelfe,
And loves his Neighbour, as hee loves himselfe,
This man is Rare to finde, yet this Rare man
Shall have the Hatefull name of Puritan;
When execrations pierce the firmament,
And oathes doe batter 'gainst Heavens Battlement:
When Imprecations, and damb'd Blasphemies,
In sundry cursed volleys scale the Skies,
When men more Bruitish then the Horse or Mule,
Who know not to obey, presume to Rule,
Thus Church and Common-wealth, and men, all are
(Much like the Picture) out of frame or square.
And if'twere possible our fathers old
Should live againe, and tread upon this mould,
And see all things confused, overthrowne,
They would not know this Countrey for their owne.
For England hath no likelyhood, or show
Of what it was but seventy yeeres agoe;
Religion, manners, life and shapes of men,
Are much unlike the people that were then,
Nay Englands face and language is estrang'd,
That all is Metamorphis'd, chop'd and chang'd,
For like as on the Poles, the VVorld is whorl'd
So is this Land the Bedlam of the VVorld;
That I amazed, and amated am,
To see Great Brittaine turn'd to Amsterdam,
Mens braines and witts (two simples beat together)
From thence (mix'd and compounded) are sent hither.
For Amsterstam is landed (as I heare)
At Rye, or Hastings, or at Dover Peere,
At Harwich, Ipswich, Sandwich, or at Weymouth,
At Portsmouth, Dartmouth, Exmouth, Plimouth, Farmouth,
At Yarmouth, and at all the Ports to Tinmouth,
And westward unto Bristow and to Monmouth;
From all these Mouthes and more, mad sects are sent,
VVho have Religion all in pieces Rent,
One would have this, Another would have that,
And most of them would have they know not what.
God give us peace, and ease us of our paine,
And send those sects, from whence they came againe,
The Papist, and the Schismatique; both grieves
The Church, for shee's like Christ (Between two Thieves.)
I took the Protestation twice of Late,
VVhere I protested not to Innovate.
'Tavoide all Popish Rites, and to expresse
Obedience to what Englands Church professe,
My Loyalty unto my King is bent
VVith duty to the Peers and Parliament.
VVith Prayers, and my best service for them all,
That on them may Heavens chiefest blessings fall,
That with one heart, as one man, with one minde,
(For Gods great glory) they may be combinde,
And never vary, but goe boldly on,
To end the good worke, which they have begun.
This is the Sum (which ne'er shall be forsooke)
Of what I in the Protestation tooke.
But, for all this, I may be mannerly
In Gods House, and be free from Papistrie;
I hope I may put off my hat, and be
Allow'd to Kneel, and Pray, and Bow my Knee,
VVhen as divine Command bids, onely then
I'le Bow to God, and not to Saints, or Men.
And from those dueties I will never vary
Till death, or Order doe command contrary.
Th'Almighties Name be ever prays'd and blest,
That Romish superstition is supprest,
VVee have no Abbyes, Abbots, Friars, or Monks,
Nor have we Nuns, or Stewes allow'd for Punks,
VVee have no Masses, or no Mass-Priests heere,
But some are hang'd, and some are fled for feare.
All those that are so bold to stay behind,
I wish they may like entertainment finde;
Beades, Bables, Relliques, Tapers, Lamps or Lights,
Wee have no superstitious Romish Rites,
Wee seek our Pardons from our Heavenly Hope,
And not by works, or favour from the Pope;
To Saints we make no prayer, or Intercession,
And unto God alone wee make Confession;
Wee hold no Reall Presence in the Bread,
And wee doe know King Charles our supreame head
(Beneath God, who hath plac'd him in his Throne)
For other Supreame, wee acknowledge none.
No Purgatory, Image, Wood or Stone,
No Stock, or carved Block, wee trust upon,
Nor is our Church discretion heere so little,
As to Baptize with Cream, with salt and Spittle.
VVee have as many Sacraments, as Heaven
Ordain'd; which are but two, and Rome hath seven.
VVee doe not Christen Bells, and give them Names
Of Simon, Peter, Andrew, Iohn and Iames;
VVee use no Pilgrimage, or Holy-water,
Nor in an unknowne tongue our Prayers scatter;
All these, and many more, in Rome are us'd
VVhich are by us reiected and refus'd.
And yet too many faults, alas remaines,
VVhich are the Churches, and the Kingdomes staines,
The Church Triumphant is not cleere from spots,
The Poore Church Millitant hath still some blots,
Heer's all unperfect, somthing's still amisse,
And nothing's blest, but in Eternall Blisse.
Meane time, till wee amend, and leave our crimes,
The Picture is the Emblem of the Times.

AQUA-MUSÆ:

OR, Cacafogo, Cacadæmon, CAPTAIN GEORGE WITHER Wrung in the Withers.

[1646.] The Complaint of Christmas.

[Concerning of the Crosse my faith is this]

Concerning of the Crosse my faith is this
It is amisse, to such as mak't amisse.
To such as reverence it or doe adore it,
Or say their prayers to it or before it.
Such do pervert it from its proper use,
And turne an ornament, to an abuse.
We use no crosse in Baptisme, with intent
To adde some vertue to the Sacrament:
Nor is it us'd at all, by any one
Untill the Child be baptis'd, and alls done.
Turkes, Pagans, Heathens, Infidels, and Jewes,
They know not Christ, therefore no Crosse they use,
But no true Christian, justly can repine
To let a Crosse stand, as a Christian signe.
Knaves may deface it, Fooles may worship it,
And both are done for want of Grace, or Wit,
Flagges, Ensignes, Armes for Sea, or Court, or Campe
And all our monies beare the Crosses stampe.
And those that wrong'd the Crosses here's my curse,
May they want Crosses allwayes in their purse.

THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTIES VVellcome to his owne House, Truly called the Honour of Hampton COVRT,

VVho came thither on the 24. of August, and so consequently hoped and humbly desired to White-Hall.

Most Gracious (suffring) Soveraigne Lord & King
Had I a quill pluckd from the Phœnix wing,
Or Homers Muse, or Virgills towring stile,
(Thy ten times long wish'd wellcom to compile)
Had I all these great aides, all were to few,
Thy Subjects long expected joyes to shew
Thy presence hath inspir'd this Muse of mine,
More then Apollo and his triple Trine,
Hee's dull braind, and a Poet cannot bee,
That wants a Muse (great King,) and writes of thee.
A juster Master servants never had
And servants false to man, to to bad
But as the Eagle never cast his eyes,
On abject, objects, vermin, gnatts or flies,
So thou not minding injuries, hast still,
VVith thine owne goodnes overcome their ill.
Ingratefull men tooke cloathing, wages, food,
From thee, and have repaid thee ill for good:
Which thy Heroicke mind still slighted hath,
As most unworthy of thy Royall wrath.
Ther's not a grace, a vertue or an Art,
But are inthroned in thy Princely Heart:
Faith and Fame unshaken with the wrongs,
Of perjur'd writers and perfidious tongues,
Thy certaine Hope in thy Majestique Breast
That fix'd beliefe, shall be made manifest
By Charitie, which thou hast shew'd to those
Who are thy cursed causeles mortall foes.
VVhereby thy virtues patient constancy,
Hath won thee a more glorious victory,
Then if (by conquest) thy sharpe sword should peirce
Through all the Kingdomes of the Universe.
Thy Mercy and thy Iustice are the Jems,
And richest Jewells in thy Diadems.
To summe up all; 'tis truly understood
Ther's nothing may be named just or good
But is in thee ingraff'd, and nothing ill
Thou sayst or do'st, but 'tis against thy will.
Thy Master Christ (the light made thee discerne,
And this blest Lesson thou from him didst learne.
That he that Loveth, Father, Mother, VVife,
Children, earths goods or glory, or his life
More then his Saviour (such a sordid Spirit)
Is most unworthy of his Masters Merrit:
This precept thou hast practis'd this thy troath
Kept in thy Christian Coronation Oath,
Wife, Children, Crowne, and Kingdomes, friends, Life, all
Thou hazzard'st either to rise, stand or fall,
Thy Love (Great King) to thy great King of Kings,
By thee hath been prefer'd above all things,
For which he'le crowne his Gifts in thee, and hee
Will crowne thee glorious with Eternitie:
Thy Constancie hath trip'd up Fortunes heele,
Thy mind ne're minded her Inconstant Wheele:
What good, or bad Occurrances effected;
Thy Spirits were ne're errected or dejected;
Not with a stuped Humor stoicall,
But with a Christian Mind Majesticall:
And with Impregnable strong confidence,
Still trusting in the Almighties Providence.
Now may wee see that Patience, Clemencie,
Religion, and true Magnanimitie,
Are Talents lent, whose value doth excell:
And all the Proffits their's that use them well.
And (Royall Sir) Thou hast done well (no doubt)
Thou hast not wrap'd thy Talent in a Clowte,
But so improv'd thy trust, in thy Trustee,
That tenfold ten times more thy trust shall bee.
And now poore England, hath so many years
Bin Plagu'd with causles Jellosies and Feares,
Which (like Blacke clouds) disperst with wavering wind:
Made Wit squint-ey'd, and Vnderstanding blind,
Whearby each howre was frighted hence sweet Peace
And every moment miseries encrease:
But as bright Phebus (interpos'd by Clowds,
Which with a mourning face the earth e'n shrowds)
At last dispells them with his Radient Ray,
And makes the dolsome darke, a gladsome day.
So wee (mistaken Subjects) hood-winck over
With Ignorance, our sights againe recover,
King Charles shines cleare, as Sols Coruscant Beames
Hath prov'd our Jeallous Feares wer lesse then dreames,
Milde Dove-like King brings Peace with th'Ollive Braunch,
Whose Love (like Balsome, Bleeding wounds will staunch
Our chearefull faces, shewes our minds (like Mirrors)
Free from suspitious thoughts, or needlesse Terrors:
Hearts over flow'd with Joyes, Thankes up erected
To God, who for us hath this good effected:
Our joyfull eyes shewes Aprill drops of pleasure,
And showrs of Joy fill th'Horizons measure,
Th'Almightie hath thy troubles seene and heard,
And hath thy upright heart in such regard
That (mauger mischiefe) His outstretched Arme
Hath, doth, and will defend thee still from Harme,
Base Shiemei Railes not as he erst hath done,
Nor rake-hell Sheba (Bieri's cursed sonne)
Doth rore and raile with lowd Infernall yell,
Or cry out, to your Tents o Israell
That Sectaries no more contention Breed
But humbly learne to know their Christian Creed,
That Iudasses no more Hayle Master say
When as they meane their Master to betray.
That Reverend Levites of a new hatcht Brood,
Make England drunk no more with English Blood.
That we may have our Qveene and Prince once more,
And use them Kinder then we did of yore.
Triumphing trumpetts sownd shall mount toth' starres
Hnd not the dreadfull charge of civill warres,
Sweet Peace (we hope shall still the Churlish Drumb,
And Murd'ring, Thundring, Guns. Commanded Dumb,
Iustice and Mercy both Kisse (when they meete)
No heavy sad complaining in our streete,
No more shall England bath in her owne Gore,
Or leading to captivity no more.
Sword (drunk with blood) shall in their Scabberds rest,
No plundering or free quartering shall molest.
The painefull farmer, ploughman, or the swaine,
And weapons shall give place to gownes againe.
The Church resume her rights she had before,
The Cleargie to be scandaliz'd no more.
Thus each man hopes he shall his right enjoy
And all cease one another to destroy.
The King shall have his owne againe, and see,
His enemies asham'd and odious bee.
Upon thy Head still flourish may thy Crowne,
And ten times troubled be thy high Renoune
That thee and thine in glory here may Raigne,
Untill the King of glory come againe:
For such as speake peace, and doe warre intend,
For any Sinister or private end.
That of tranquillity doe prate and prattle,
But wish for war, yet dare not see a Battle,
Let all such never claime a Christian Name
Whose trade or pleasure in Blood and Flame,
Of their deere Country; to Rippe, Rend and teare,
Their Mothers Woombe, which did such Bastards beare.
Belike some feare that Peace would drive 'em hence
To England New, or th'Isle of Providence:
Virginia, Barmoodies, or St. Kitts.
Barbadoes, Mevis, or besides their witts:
But those that offering to the Altars bring,
To raise new warres 'gainst Kingdome Lawes and King,
Let them goe West-ward to the Triple tree,
And like false Traitours, hang both he and shee.
Those Sonnes of Hittits and of Amorites,
God doe to them, as to the Midianites,
As Heathen Sisera, and as Fabin dyd
At Endors Field, (where Kishowes Brooke doth slyd)
As they became as dunge, so let them be,
That to a blessed Peace will not a gree,
The peace of God, grant us thou God of Peace,
Let us cease sinne, thou wil't our sorrowes cease.
Let's frame our lives according to thy word
And let no Sword be drawne, but Justice Sword,
To which ends, thou good God of Consolation,
Send happy peace to this afflicted Nation.
So wellcome good King Charles to Hampton Court,
And God be still thy shield, defence and Fourt.

1648 An Ironicall Expostulation.

ΙΠΠ-ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟΣ:

OR, AN Ironicall Expostulation WITH DEATH and FATE, For the Losse of The late Lord Mayor of London; Who on Friday October 27. 1648. expired together with his Office; and both He and his Bay-Horse di'd o'th' Sullens.

Yet let none say he's broke or run away,
But (as the wiser call't) he did convey
Himselfe into a Church, in policie,
Where he was sure none would suspect him lie.
No clamorous Bell pronounce his fall, no Gun,
He was no Warriar, nor no Whittington.
(Only the joviall Butchers (in the Stocks)
Gave him a dismall peale with cleaver-knocks.)
Let him sans Common-Prayer in silence passe,
Be buried with the buriall of an Asse.
So farewell horse and man, dead and forgot,
Both infamous let both together rot.
Rejoyce Apprentices, your day is come
No more to stand in fear of Martyrdome:
No more shall yee to Bridewell go, and pay
For your extravagance the last Lords day.
Now ye may circumambulate, and see
Morefields and Islington without a fee.
No more henceforth shall th'Surry Cavaliers
Go home and shake their heads without their eares.
All troubled waters now shall to their springs
Returne, and one raigne, not five hundred Kings.
Yet all this while we erre, and accuse Fate,
When he his own end did accelerate;
For having drunk a scruple over-night
Of jealousies and fears, he took his flight.
Thus Hanniball, and those heroick blades,
Minding an easie way to get to th'Shades,
Made use o'th' Druggists Art, and to provide
'Gainst future vengeance, drunk their dosse, and di'd.

An Epitaph on the Mayor, &c.

Vnder this Tomb-stone lies a thing,
Enemy both to Church and King.
No Protestant, and yet no Papist,
A Puritan, and yet an Atheist.
For Magistracy a grand stickler,
Yet a most zealous Conventickler:
One that for Christ would live and die,
(Yet kept no Christ-tide verily.)
One that the Prophets slew, and took
Th'Apostles badge from out the Booke.
One that the Rubrick took away,
And gave th'Apprentices Tuesday.
One that did every thing amisse,
Then riddle me, riddle me, who was this?

An Epitaph on my Lord Mayors Horse.

Here in this Oyle-Tub (Reader stand aloofe)
Lies Great Bucephalus, beware his hoofe;
Who out of a good nature needs would die,
Meerly to keep his Master company.
Bay was his name, some call'd him, Rosemary,
For his victorious feats, and Chivalry:
But if he had no name, the Bulks and Shambles
Would speak him famous for his Christmasse Gambolls:
When from an Amble to a Trot anon
Bravely he trod down Superstition.
For which rare service 'tis decreed he lie
Pickled and Powder'd for Posterity.
And live by this Inscription (somewhat course)
Down went the Popish Rites, Grammercy Horse.

A Dialogicall brief Discourse between Rainsborough and Charon, at their meeting, Octob. 29. 1648.

Charon.
Welcome to th'shades; hail Brother Rainsborough:
I am a Boat-man, so were you.
Most opportunely! See th'triumphant Mayor,
(No lesse a man) is our first fare.
Had you not come, his Honour had (by Styx)
Fairl' in a Sculler gone t'Old Nick's.

Rainsb.
Now he may ride in Oares—forbeare; alas,
He that you speak of may not passe.
What will Iudge Rhadamanth and Minos say,
If we th'

Arrrested by a Knight whose sonne was slain in the late bickering in London.

arrested Corps convey?
I that on Earth was above Law, yet know
How to conforme my self below.

Charon.
Hum! I have lost my Naula; let it go;
Now to your businesse Rainsborough.

Rainsb.
Know then, that I from th'English Coast am sent
By th'States, to know your Government.
And e're the Vote passe, hence must have command,
That the new Anarchy may stand:
Speak Charon, speak; if Pluto think it good,
I have already seal'd it with my blood.

Charon.
Dull Man, or Ghost; or whatsoe're thou art,
Thou think'st to alienate my heart:
Know'st not we have a Prince; and though the Devill,
One that abjures all you that Levell?
You that incroach, my Office to enjoy;
Were you not once a Skippers Boy?
By all th'infernall gods, lay by thy Spade,
Or be suspected guilty Hell t'invade.

Rainsb.
No more; I yeeld: the Government stand,
I was but sent here under-hand)
Yet if our Agents with you here might try,
They would put hard for Anarchy.

Charon.
Anarchy? Hell and Furies! such a word
Once more, and thou go'st over-board.
Belzebub, if he knew thee at this height,
Would have thee carbonado'd streight.
Leave us—and yet I'le write thy Epitaph,
Meerly to make the Devill laugh.
For, by the Rabbies leave, without controule,
'Twas not a

So Walker upon Tho. Rainsborough, he that from an Ironmonger became a Newesmonger, & now makes Hebrew Pot-hooks and Andirons cum privilegio.

Fire removed his pure Soule.

Epitaph.

Weltring in blood see here an Horse-leech sprawll,
Glutted and overcharg'd, yet loath to fall;
Bred up 'ith Ocean; lately crept to th'shore,
(Though he had all, yet covetous of more.)
Which when the wise Phisitian saw, his thirst
That 'twas unsatiable, let him burst:
So having empti'd and disgorg'd his Maw,
Hence through the Rubick sea he swam away.
Feare not Colchestrian Dames, lest Lucas 'rise;
Veng'ance is fully paid; Here Rainsb'rongh lies.

1649. Wanderings to see the Wonders of the West.

The Bil of John Taylor, or a Taylors Bill, without either Imprimis, or Items.

TAYLORS Westerne Voyage to the Mount.

Tis a mad world (my masters) and in sadnes
I travail'd madly in these dayes of madnes:
Eight yeares a frenzy did this Land molest,
The ninth year seem'd to be much like the rest,
My selfe (with age, griefe, wrongs, and wants opprest,
With troubles more then patience could disgest)
Amongst those Isles, I chose the least and best,
Which was to take this journey to the West:
And sure it is an Argument most fit,
That he who hath a portion of small wit
As I have, and good store of friends, 'twere sloth
And foolery, not to make use of both.
My wit was worne thread bare, halfe naked, poore,
And I, with it, went wool-gath'ring for more.
This long walke (first and last) I undertooke
On purpose to get money by my Booke:
My friends (I know) will pay me for my paine,
And I will never trouble them againe.
Six hundred miles, I (very neere) have footed,
And all that time was neither sho'd or booted;
But in light buskins I perform'd this travell
O're hill and dale, through dust, dirt, flint, and gravell.
And now no more words I in vaine will scatter,
But come unto the marrow of the matter.
My Reader must not her suppose that I
Will write a treatise of Geography:
Or that I meane to make exact Relations
Of Cities, Townes, or Countries scituations;
Such men as those, I turne them o're to reade
The learned Cambden, or the painefull Speed.
And now (good Reader) I my muse do tune,
I London left, the twenty one of June:
To Brainford, Colebrooke, Maidenhead and Henly,
I past (the weather faire, the high wayes cleanely)
To Abington, where foure dayes I remain'd,
By friends and kinsfolkes kindely entertain'd:
Thankes to my Nephew John, with all the rest,
To whom that time I was a costly Guest.

[From nasty Roomes, that never felt broomes]

From nasty Roomes, that never felt broomes,
From excrements, and all bad sents,
From childrens bawling, and caterwawling,
From grunting of hogs, and barking of dogs,
And from byting of Fleas, there I found ease.

[Like to the stone of Sisiphus, I roule]

Like to the stone of Sisiphus, I roule
From place to place, through weather faire and foule,
And yet I every day must wander still
To vent my Bookes, and gather friends good will;
I must confesse this worke is frivalowse,
And he that (for it) daignes to give a lowse,
Doth give as much for't as 'tis worth, I know;
Yet meerly merily I this jaunt did goe
In imitation of a mighty King,
Whose warlike acts, good fellowes often sing,
The King of France and twenty thousand men,
Went up the Hill, and so came downe agen.
So I this travell past, with cost and paine,
And (as I wisely went) came home againe.

CHRISTMAS IN & OVT:

OR, OUR LORD & SAVIOUR Christs Birth-Day.

To the Reader.

Good Joshua once ordain'd a Holy-Day,
Because the Sun stood still in Gibeon,
And at his Prayers that the Moon did stay
His course, above the Vaile of Aialon:
And shal not Christians stil give thanks & praise
On th'yearly day our blest redeemer came?
Shall Powder Treasons and thanksgiving dayes
Be still observed in Records of Fame?
Then let not Christs Birth-Day forgotten bee,
Remember him that doth remember thee.

A SHORT RELATION OF A LONG IOURNEY Made ROUND or OVALL

A Taylors Bill, with few or no Items: by or for John Taylor.

Now in the seventy fourth yeare of mine Age,
I take an English and Welsh Pilgrimage:
From London first I bend my course to Chester,
And humbly I to all men am Requester;
That when I have past over Hills and Dales,
And compast with my Travels famous Wales,
That when to you that I a Book do give,
Relating how I did subsist and live,
With all my Passages both here and there,
And of my Entertainment every where.
Write but your Names and Dwellings in this Bill,
I'le finde you, for the Book give what you will.
Twelve Voyages and Journies I have past,
And now my Age sayes this may be my last.
My Travels Story shall most pleasant be
To you that read, though painfull unto me.

A Short Relation of a Long Iourny, &c.

A Traveller that loves to see strange Lands,
May be a man or not a man of's hands:
But yet 'tis very requisite and meet,
He should be furnish'd with good brains and feet;
For he that wants legs, feet, and brains, and wit,
To be a Traveller is most unfit:
And such am I by Age of strength bereft,
With one right leg, and one lame left leg left.
Beggers on their backs their brats do reare;
But I my issue in my leg do beare:
I dresse it often and impatiently
It lies and cries not, though it make me cry;
Yet I dare challenge Scottish Jock or Jackey,
Or any light-heel'd nimble footed Lackey,
To travell such a Jaunt as I have done,
With th'right leg going, and the left leg run:
Or if I please, the case I'le alter so,
To make the worst leg run, the best to goe.
And sure my heart was stout, men may suppose,
To venture Travell with such legs as those.
But there be some few that do understand,
'Tis merry walking with a horse in hand.
Such was my Lot, I had a stately Courser,
None courser quality'd, and for a worser,
There's neither Halifax, or Hull, nor Hell,
That for good parts my horse can parallel;
He was a beast, had heated been and cheated,
Too much hard over rid and under meated,
That he as gaunt as any Greyhound was,
And for a Horses Skelliton might passe:
You might have told his ribs, he was so thin,
And seen his heart and guts, but for his skin;
He was not pursie foggy, cloy'd with greace,
And like his Rider lov'd rest, ease, and peace:
Dun was, and is the Dumb beast, and was Done,
E're I begun, or he with me begun.
He had a black List, from the Mane to Taile,
Which is a colour that doth seldome faile:
To change of paces he had been inur'd,
But yet not one t'endure, or be endur'd;
His Trot would fling a Dagger out ot'h sheath,
Or jolt a man to death, or out of breath.
His Ambling was invisible to me,
From such smooth easie garbs his feet were free:
His common Pace in Sun-shine or in showre,
Was (as he pleas'd) about two mile an houre.
I never yet could put him in a sweat,
For he was never free, but at his meat.
Thus John upon Dun's back, were both Dun John,
And thus the tedious way we wandred on.
Now to proceed in order duly, truly,
I London left the thirteenth day of July:
The Wayes as faire as man could well desire,
'Cause I had none to draw Dun out o'th mire:
I fifteen miles (to Rislip) that day went,
Baited at Edgworth, to give Dun content;
There my acquaintance, of good fame and worth,
Did welcome me: the next day I set forth,
With Boots, Sans Spurs, with Whip, and Switch of Burch,
I got on, twenty miles to Stoken Church:
The fifteenth day, S. Swithin, I and Dun,
Did shuffle sixteen miles to Abington;
There till the Tuesday following I abode,
From thence I sixteen miles to great Tue rode,
There at the Swan mine Host was free and kind,
He had but one eye, tother side was blinde;
But surely he a right Good-fellow was,
And there one night my Dun did eat good grass.
On July's twenty one from Tue I went,
And unto Warwick strait my course I bent,
There did I find another signe o'th Swan,
Mine Hostesse kind, mine Host a Gentile man,
And for your love to me, good Master Venner,
With humble thanks I am your praises Penner.
My gratitude to Master Jacob Harmer,
His Drapers shop could never make me warmer,
Then high and mighty Warwick's drink did there,
It made my brains to Caper and careere,
It was of such invincible strong force,
To knock me (in five miles) twice from my Horse:
And sure I think the Drink was certainly
Infused with the conqu'ring ghost of Guy.
On July's two and twentieth day I came
Unto an ancient house call'd Hunningham,
There were two Ladies of good Worth and fame,
Whom for some reasons I forbeare to name:
Their Son and Grandson (John) I'le not forget,
He's nobly minded as a Baronet;
Foure dayes they kept me with exceeding cheere,
And gave me silver because Travels deare.
From thence my Journey 5 miles I pursue,
To Coventry, most famous for true blew;
There the faire Crosse of ancient high Renown
Stands firme, though other Crosses all are down.
'Tis a dry City, and dry let it be,
'Twas not made dryer one small drop for me:
Like a Camelion there I brake my fast,
And thence I twenty miles to Lichfield past;
There at the George I took my lodging up,
I well was lodg'd, and well did sup and cup,
When there by chance, I cast my wandring ey on
The ruin'd Church, with griefe I thought on Sion:
I sigh'd to see that sad confusion,
Like th'Hebrews by the Brook of Babylon.
On July's twenty seventh I rode alone
Full sixteen miles unto a Town call'd Stone.
Next day to Nantwich sixteen long miles more,
From thence to Chester near the Cambrian shore:
There was my welcome in such noble fashion,
Of which in Prose I'le make some briefe Relation.

[The next day when the Clock strook two and fowre]

The next day when the Clock strook two and fowre,
I mounted Dun, Dun mounted Penmen Mawre;
And if I do not take my aime amisse,
That lofty Mountain seems the Skies to kisse:
But there are other Hils accounted higher,
Whose lofty tops I had no mind t'aspire:
As Snowdon, and the tall Plinnillimon,
Which I no stomack had to tread upon.
Merioneth Mountains, and Shire Cardigan
To travell over, will tire horse and man:
I, to Bewmaris came that day and din'd,
Where I the good Lord Buckley, thought to find:
But he to speak with me had no intent,
Dry I came into's house, dry out I went.
I left Bewmaris, and to Bangor trac'd it,
Ther's a brave Church, but Time and War defac'd it:
For Love and Mony I was welcome thither,
'Tis merry meeting when they come together.