THE PURITAN.
By John Cleveland.
To the tune of “An old Courtier of the Queen’s.”
With face and fashion to be known,
For one of sure election;
With eyes all white, and many a groan,
With neck aside to draw in tone,
With harp in’s nose, or he is none:
See a new teacher of the town,
Oh the town, oh the town’s new teacher!
With pate cut shorter than the brow,
With little ruff starch’d, you know how,
With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow,
With surplice none; but lately now
With hands to thump, no knees to bow:
See a new teacher, etc.
With coz’ning cough, and hollow cheek,
To get new gatherings every week,
With paltry change of and to eke,
With some small Hebrew, and no Greek,
To find out words, when stuff’s to seek:
See a new teacher, etc.
With shop-board breeding and intrusion,
With some outlandish institution,
With Ursine’s catechism to muse on,
With system’s method for confusion,
With grounds strong laid of mere illusion:
See a new teacher, etc.
With rites indifferent all damned,
And made unlawful, if commanded;
Good works of Popery down banded,
And moral laws from him estranged,
Except the sabbath still unchanged:
See a new teacher, etc.
With speech unthought, quick revelation,
With boldness in predestination,
With threats of absolute damnation
Yet yea and nay hath some salvation
For his own tribe, not every nation:
See a new teacher, etc.
With after license cast a crown,
When Bishop new had put him down;
With tricks call’d repetition,
And doctrine newly brought to town
Of teaching men to hang and drown:
See a new teacher, etc.
With flesh-provision to keep Lent,
With shelves of sweetmeats often spent,
Which new maid bought, old lady sent,
Though, to be saved, a poor present,
Yet legacies assure to event:
See a new teacher, etc.
With troops expecting him at th’ door,
That would hear sermons, and no more;
With noting tools, and sighs great store,
With Bibles great to turn them o’er,
While he wrests places by the score:
See a new teacher, etc.
With running text, the named forsaken,
With for and but, both by sense shaken,
Cheap doctrines forced, wild uses taken,
Both sometimes one by mark mistaken;
With anything to any shapen:
See a new teacher, etc.
With new-wrought caps, against the canon,
For taking cold, tho’ sure he have none;
A sermon’s end, where he began one,
A new hour long, when’s glass had run one,
New use, new points, new notes to stand on:
See a new teacher, etc.
THE ROUNDHEAD.
From Samuel Butler’s Posthumous Works.
What creature’s that, with his short hairs,
His little band, and huge long ears,
That this new faith hath founded?
The saints themselves were never such,
The prelates ne’er ruled half so much;
Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.
What’s he that doth the bishops hate,
And counts their calling reprobate,
’Cause by the Pope propounded;
And thinks a zealous cobbler better
Than learned Usher in ev’ry letter?
Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.
What’s he that doth high treason say,
As often as his yea and nay,
And wish the King confounded;
And dares maintain that Mr Pim
Is fitter for a crown than him?
Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.
What’s he that if he chance to hear
A little piece of Common Prayer,
Doth think his conscience wounded;
Will go five miles to preach and pray,
And meet a sister by the way?
Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.
What’s he that met a holy sister
And in a haycock gently kiss’d her?
Oh! then his zeal abounded:
’Twas underneath a shady willow,
Her Bible served her for a pillow,
And there he got a Roundhead.