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89

THE RECANTATION Of A Penitent Proteus;

OR, The Changling.

[_]

As it was acted with good Applause in St. Maries in Cambridge, and St. Pauls in London, 1663.

[_]

To the Tune of Dr. Faustus.


91

[The First Part]

Proteus his penal Resolution, speaking alone in the Tyring-house before his entring the Pulpit.

Oh I am almost mad, 'twould make one so,
To see which way Preferments game doth go.
I ever thought I had her in the Wind,
And yet I'm cast above three years behind.
Three times already I have turn'd my Coat;
Three times already I have chang'd my Note:
Il'e make it four and four and twenty more,
And turn the Compass round ere I'le give ore.
Love to Church-members I will give no more;
For now I'le only court the Scarlet Whore.
I'le ask the Bishops blessing; and good-night
To Thomas Goodwyn, and his Child of Light.

92

Poor man, he wears his Capps too much in's eyes
To be my Guide, No, I must be more wise.
On all my Brethren I will look awry,
And cry, Stand farther off to Philip Nye.
Ambition, my great Goddess and my Muse,
Inspire thy Prophets all such Arts to use,
As may exalt; Betwixt this and my Grave
A Miter, or a Halter, I must have.
Tell me (Ambition) prethee tell me why
So many Dunces Doctors and not I?
A Scarlet Gown I must and will obtain,
I cannot else commence a Priest in grain.
Among the Doctors I can get no room
Till I recant; that is my shameful doom.
Hang shame, I'le do it, and my end's to gain,
I'le cant, recant, and re-recant again.
Now help me great Ambition, for thy sake
To break my sleep, to break my Brains, to break
My Faith and Oaths, and so to act my part,
That men may think I have a broken Heart.
When I do preach my tears do trickle down;
But in my sleeve (my Cassock sleeves and Gown)
I laugh, to think how by my whining trade
So many Fools in one day I have made.

93

Help me, my Muse, a new Song I desire
By thee may be prepared for the Quire,
That when my Recantation Sermon's done,
This Penitential Anthem may be sung.
But yet one thing ere I begin, I crave
A benefit, which Poets use to have,
That now and then, to make my Rimes agree,
What ends in Lie, may be pronounced LEE.

The Second Part;

Or, the Changling in the Pulpit.

Attend good People, lay by scoffs and scorns,
Let Round-heads all this day pull in their Horns,
But let Conformists and brave Caveliers
Unto my doleful Tone prick up their Ears.

94

Take from my neck this Robe, a Rop's more fit,
And turn this Surplice to a Penance-sheet,
This Pulpit is too good to act my part,
More fit to preach at Tyburn in a Cart:
There I deserv'd t' have taken my degree,
And Doctor Dun should have presented me;
There with an Hempen Hood I should be sped,
And his three-corner'd Cap should crown my head.
Here I am come to hold up guilty hand,
And of the Beast to give my self the brand;
Here, by confessing I have been i'th wrong,
I come to bore my self through my own tongue.
In Learning my poor Parents brought up me;
And sent me to the Universitie;
There I soon found bowing the way to rise:
And th' only Logick was the Falacies.
In stead of Aristotles Organon,
Anthems and Organs I did study on;
If I could play on them, I soon did find,
I rightly had Preferment in the wind.
I follow'd that hot scent without controul,
I bow'd my body, and I sung Fa Sol;
I cozen'd Doctor Couzens, and ere long
A Fellowship obtained for a Song.

95

Then by degrees I climb'd, until I got
Good Friends, good Cloaths, good Commons, and what not?
I got so long, until at length I got
A Wench with Child, and then I got a blot.
Before the Consistory I was try'd,
Where like a Villain I both swore and ly'd,
And from the Whore I made I was made free,
By purging of my self Incont'nent-LEE.
But as I scorn'd to father mine own Brat,
'Twas done to me as I had done with That;
The Doctors all, when Doctor I would be,
As a base son, refus'd to father me.
With much ado, at length by art and cunning,
My Tears & Vows prevail'd with Peter Gunning
Me to adopt; and for his love and care,
I will devote my self to Peter's Chair.
Cambridge I left with grief and great disgrace,
To seek my fortune in some other place;
And that I might the better save my stake,
I took an Order, and did Orders take.
Amongst Conformists I my self did list,
A Son o'th Church as good as ever pist.
But though I bow'd, and cring'd, & crost & all,
I only got a Vicarage very small.

96

Ere I was warm (and warm I ne're had bin
In such a starved hole as I was in)
A Fire upon the Church and Kingdom came,
Which I straight helpt to blow into a flame.
[_]

To the same Tune.

The Third Part.

My Conscience first, like Balaam's Asse, was shy,
Bogled and winc'd; which when I did espy,
I cudgeld her, and spur'd her on each side,
Until the Jade her paces all could ride.
When first I mounted on her tender back,
She would not leave the Protestant dull Rack,
Till in her mouth the Cov'nant Bit I got,
And made her learn the Presbyterian Trot;
'Twas an hard Trot, and fretted her (alas)
The Independent Amble easier was,
I taught her that, and out of that to fall
To the Tantivy of Prelatical.
I rode her once to Rumford with a pack
Of Arguments for th' Cov'nant on her back.
That Journey she perform'd at such a rate,
Th' Committee gave me a rich piece of Plate.

97

From Hatfield to St. Albans I did ride,
The Army call'd for me to be their Guide;
There I so spurd her, that I made her fling,
Not only dirt, but blood upon my King.
When Cromwel turn'd his Masters out by force,
I made the Beast draw like a Brewers horse;
Under the Rump I made her wear a Crooper,
And under Lambert she became a Trooper.
When Noble Monk the KING did home conveigh,
She (like Darius Steed) began to neigh.
I taught her since to Organ Pipes to prance,
As Banks his Horse could to a Fiddle dance.
Now with a Snaffle, or a twined thread,
To any Government she'l turn her head:
I have so broke her, she doth never start,
And that's the meaning of my broken heart.
I have found out a cunning way with ease,
To make her cast her Coat when ere I please;
And if at Rack and Manger she may be,
Her Colts tooth she will keep most Wanton-LEE.
I'l change as often as the Man i'th Moon;
[His frequent Changing makes him rise so soon]
To eat Church Plumb-broth e're it all be gone,
I'le have the Devil's spoon but I'le have One.

98

For many years my Tongue did lick the Rump;
But when I saw a KING was turn'd up Trump,
I did resolve still in my hand to have
One winning Card, although 'twere but a Knave.
If the Great Turk to England come, I can
Make Gospel truckle to the Alchoran;
And if their Turkish Sabbaths should take place,
I have in readiness my Friday face.
If lockt in Iron Chest (as we are told)
A Loadstone their great Mahomet can hold:
The Loadstone of Preferment (I presage)
To Mahomet may draw this Iron Age.
The Congregation way best pleas'd my mind;
There were more Shees, and they most free and kind:
By Chamber practice I did better thrive,
Than all my Livings, though I skimmed five.
Mine Eyes are open now my Sins to see,
With Tears I cry, Good People Pardon me;
My Reverend Fathers Pardon I do crave,
And hope my Mothers Blessing yet to have.
My Cambridge sins, my Bugden sins are vile,
My Essex sins, my sins in Ely-Isle,
My Leicester sins, my Hatfield sins are many,
But my St. Albans sins more red than any.

99

To CHARLES the first I was a bloody foe,
I wish I do not serve the Second so:
The only way to make me leave that trick,
Is to bestow on me a Bishoprick.
This is St. Andrews Eve, and for his sake
A Bishoprick in Scotland I could take;
And though a Metropolitan there be,
I'de be as Sharp, and full as Arch as he.
Now may this Sermon never be forgot,
Let others call't a Sermon, I a Plot,
A Plot that takes, if it believed be;
If not I shall repent Unfained-LEE.
I must desire the Crack-fart of the Nation,
With rev'rance to let fly this Recantation;
Our Names ty'd tail to tail, make a sweet change,
Mine only is Strange-Lee, and his Le-strange.