Poems by J.C. ; with additions.

The Hue and Cry after Sir Iohn Presbyter.

WIth Hair in Characters, and Lugs in Text; With a splay mouth, & a nose circumflext; With a set Ruff of Musket bore, that wears Like Cartrages, or linnen Bandileers, Exhausted of their sulphurous Contents, In Pulpit fire-works, which that Bomball vents; The Negative and Covenanting Oath, Like two Mustachoes, issuing from his mouth; The Bush upon his chin, (like a carv'd story, In a Box knot) cut by the Directory; Madams Confession hanging at his ear, Wiredrawn through all the questions, How and Where, Each circumstance, so in the hearing Felt, That when his ears are cropt, he'l count them gelt; The sweeping Cassock scar'd into a Jump, A sign the Presbyter's worn to the stump: The Presbyter, though charm'd against mischance With the Divine right of an Ordinance. If you meet any that do thus attire'em, Stop them, they are the tribe of Adoniram. What zealous Frenzie did the Senate seize, That tare the Rotchet to such Rags as these? Episcopacy minc't, Reforming Tweed Hath sent us Runts, even of her Churches breed; Lay-interlining Clergy, a Device That's nick-name to the stuff call'd Lops and Lice. The Beast at wrong end branded, you may trace

The Devills footsteps in his cloven Face. A Face of severall Parishes and sorts, Like to a Sergeant shav'd at Inns of Court. What mean the Eldders else, those Kirk Dragoons, Made up of Ears and Ruffs like Ducatoons? That Hierarchy of Handicrafts begun? Those new Exchange-men of Religion? Sure they're the Antick heads, which plac'd without The Church, go gape and disembogue a spout: Like them above the Commons House, have bin So long without, now both are gotten in; Then, what Imperious in the Bishop sounds, The same the Scotch Executor rebounds. This stating Prelacy, the Classick Rout, That spake it often, ere it spake it out. So by an Abbies Scheleton of late, I heard an Eccho Supererogate Through imperfection, and the voice restore, As if she had the hicop, o're and o're. Since they our mixt Dioc••sans combine Thus to ride double in their Discipline; That Pauls shall to the Consistory call A Dean and Chapter out of Weavers-Hall, Each at the Ordinance for to assist. With the five thumbs of his groat-changing Fist. Down Dagon Synod with thy motley ware, Whilst we do swagger for the Common-Prayer. That Dove-like Embassie, that wings our sence To heavens gate in shape of innocence:

Pray for the Miter'd Authors, and defie These Demicasters of Divinity. For where Sir John with Jack-of-all-trades joyns, His Finger's thicker thah the Prelat's Loyns.