All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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A Symonicall Patron, and his penny Clarke.
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
A Symonicall Patron, and his penny Clarke.
The Argvment.
Here Magus seeketh holy things to buy,With cursed bribes and base corrupting gold:
Lets Soules for want of Preaching starue and dye,
Fleeces and slayes his flockes, bare pill'd and pold:
That to speake truth, in spight of who controls,
Such Clarkes and Patron murther many soules.
This is the bane both of the age and men,
A Patron with his benefices ten;
That wallowes in fat Liuings a Church-leach,
And cannot keepe out of my Corm'rants reach,
One of these Patrons doth deuoure his Clarks,
As they doe perish Soules, after foure Markes,
And euery yeare a paire of new high shooes,
For which betwixt two Churches he doth vse
Each Sabbath day with diligence to trot,
But to what purpose, few or none know not.
Except it be'cause would heeeate and feed,
Hee'l starue two Cures, for he can hardly reade.
This sir Iohn Lacklatine, true course doth keepe,
To preach the Vestry men all fast asleepe,
And boxe and cuffe a Pulpit mightily.
Speaking non-sence with nose-wise grauity,
These youths, in Art, purse, and attire most bare
Giue their attendance at each steeple faire;
Being once hir'd he'l not displease his Lord,
His fully Patron, nor dares preach a word,
But where he giues the text, and that must be
Som place of Scripture bites no vsury,
Extortion or the like, but some calme Law,
That will not fret his fore be't nere so raw.
As calmely preach'd, as lamely too expresse't,
With clamarous yell that likes the Parish best.
This Clarke shall be a drudge too, all his time,
Weeds in the garden beares out dung and slime:
Then vpon Sabbath dayes the scroyle beginnes
With most vnhallowed hands, to weed vp sinnes:
And from cup filling all his weeke dayes spent,
Comes then to giue the Cup at Sacrament.
And from his trencher waiting goes to serue
Spirituall food to those that almost starue;
And what's this Clarke that's of such seruile minde,
Some smarting Pedant, or mechanicke hinde,
Who taking an intelligencers place,
Against poore tenants first crept into grace,
And drudges for eight pounds a yeare perhaps,
With his great vailes of Sundayes trencher scraps.
This makes the sacred Tribe of Leui glad,
That many of them proue the Tribe of Gad.
This makes good Schollers iustly to complaine,
When Patrons take they care not who for gaine,
When as a Carter shall more wages haue,
Then a good Preacher that help s Soules to saue,
These Cormorants Gods part doth eate and cram,
And so they fare well, care not who they damne,
The people scarce know what a Sermon meanes,
For a good Preacher there can haue no meanes,
To keepe himselfe with cloathes, and book & bread
Nor scarce a pillow t'vnderlay his head.
The whil'st the Patrons wife (my Lady Gay)
Fares, and is deckt most dainty euery day:
Shee'l see that preaching trouble not the towne,
And weares a hundred Sermons in a Gowne.
She hath a Preachers liuing on her backe,
For which the soules of many goes to wracke,
And hires a mungrell cheaply by the yeare,
To famish those, Christs bloud hath bought so deare:
What greater cruelty can this exceed,
Then to pine those whom Iesus bids them feed,
These are hels vultures, Tophets greedy fowles,
That proue (like diuels) Cormorants of Soules.
A Patron with his benefices ten;
That wallowes in fat Liuings a Church-leach,
And cannot keepe out of my Corm'rants reach,
One of these Patrons doth deuoure his Clarks,
As they doe perish Soules, after foure Markes,
And euery yeare a paire of new high shooes,
For which betwixt two Churches he doth vse
Each Sabbath day with diligence to trot,
But to what purpose, few or none know not.
Except it be'cause would heeeate and feed,
Hee'l starue two Cures, for he can hardly reade.
This sir Iohn Lacklatine, true course doth keepe,
To preach the Vestry men all fast asleepe,
And boxe and cuffe a Pulpit mightily.
Speaking non-sence with nose-wise grauity,
These youths, in Art, purse, and attire most bare
Giue their attendance at each steeple faire;
Being once hir'd he'l not displease his Lord,
His fully Patron, nor dares preach a word,
But where he giues the text, and that must be
Som place of Scripture bites no vsury,
Extortion or the like, but some calme Law,
That will not fret his fore be't nere so raw.
As calmely preach'd, as lamely too expresse't,
With clamarous yell that likes the Parish best.
This Clarke shall be a drudge too, all his time,
Weeds in the garden beares out dung and slime:
Then vpon Sabbath dayes the scroyle beginnes
With most vnhallowed hands, to weed vp sinnes:
And from cup filling all his weeke dayes spent,
Comes then to giue the Cup at Sacrament.
And from his trencher waiting goes to serue
Spirituall food to those that almost starue;
And what's this Clarke that's of such seruile minde,
Some smarting Pedant, or mechanicke hinde,
Who taking an intelligencers place,
Against poore tenants first crept into grace,
And drudges for eight pounds a yeare perhaps,
With his great vailes of Sundayes trencher scraps.
This makes the sacred Tribe of Leui glad,
That many of them proue the Tribe of Gad.
This makes good Schollers iustly to complaine,
When Patrons take they care not who for gaine,
When as a Carter shall more wages haue,
Then a good Preacher that help s Soules to saue,
These Cormorants Gods part doth eate and cram,
And so they fare well, care not who they damne,
The people scarce know what a Sermon meanes,
For a good Preacher there can haue no meanes,
To keepe himselfe with cloathes, and book & bread
Nor scarce a pillow t'vnderlay his head.
The whil'st the Patrons wife (my Lady Gay)
Fares, and is deckt most dainty euery day:
Shee'l see that preaching trouble not the towne,
And weares a hundred Sermons in a Gowne.
She hath a Preachers liuing on her backe,
For which the soules of many goes to wracke,
And hires a mungrell cheaply by the yeare,
To famish those, Christs bloud hath bought so deare:
What greater cruelty can this exceed,
Then to pine those whom Iesus bids them feed,
These are hels vultures, Tophets greedy fowles,
That proue (like diuels) Cormorants of Soules.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |