A new play call'd The Pragmatical Jesuit new-leven'd a comedy
Carpenter, Richard, d. 1670?

Act 3. Scen. 3.

The Singing Cobler in his Shop at work. He Sings.
Cobl.
In eighty eight (mark well my Song,)
The Spaniards were so bold a,
They came with an Armado strong,
To kill both young and old a,
They brought their Swords, Guns, Pikes, and whips,
To make us all confess a,
Our hidden Gold, to load their Ships,
Then kill us nevertheless a:
Take heed, poor Spaniards, stay and muse,
The water's not your Friend a,
Ye will be used as ye use,
If you with us contend a:
This failing, Jesuits laid a Plot,
To blow up Parliament a,
A thing can never be forgot,
That was so bloodily meant a,
They thought to roast us all alive,
And send us t' Heaven flying a:
But we it seems do them survive
Here miserably dying a:
Take heed; poor Jesuits, stay and muse,
The Fire is not your Friend a,
Ye will be used as ye use,
If you with us contend a:
At length all Priests become so rude,
So fraught with Spirit and life a,
That they mix with the multitude,
And blow the Coals of strife a:
They babble in the Conventicle,
And Quake it in the Field a,
To make the minds of men so fickle,
Resign to them and yield a:
Take heyd, poor Priestlings, stay and muse,
The Field is not your Friend a,
Ye will be used as ye use,
If you with us contend a.
Enter Lucifer and Lucifuga.
Lucifug.

Sir, a Pursevant having received Information that you are a Jesuit, pursues you neat at hand: You are visible, though I am not.

Lucifer.

Inspire me, thou quodlibetical Spirit of our Society:

Lucifug.

Sir: You must be as quick as Lightning: he is very near: I almost see his shadow.

Lucifer.

What shop is that?

Lucifug.

A Coblers: they call him the singing Cobler: and most commonly his Songs inveigh against the Papists.

Lucifer.

Friend, Ther's an Angel for thee, lend me thy Apron, Cap, and Tools; and stand thou aside a little: I am in dan∣ger to be arrested.

Alas poor Gentleman!

He sings.
Lucifer.
The English Monks are merry men,
They drink till they are dry a,
Page  25 They laugh at the poor women then.
that gave them Charity a:
The Pursevant passes with a Constable:
They are so drunk they cannot say,
Their Vespers in the Quire a;
So drunk they cannot find the way,
From Dinner to the Fire a:
Ye Monks for sooth, reform your lives,
And now more sober grow a;
Leave Cups of crimson, and mens wives.
And let the Maidens go a:
Good Father Elpheg was so drunk,
He could not find his Bed a,
Beneath his Bedsted there he sunk,
There lay all night and bled a,
Peer Boniface strong water sups,
Three or four times a day a,
Until h'as often in his Cups
Be carried drunk away a:
Ye Monks for sooth—
These Monks ambitious to be rich,
Do silver falsifie a,
How ill becomes this covetous Itch
Those that vow Poverty a?
In publick they look like their Sables
They meditate all kneeling a:
In private, play at Cards and Tables,
Fight, curse, swear, and go reeling a:
Ye Monks for footh——
Are they past beyond ken?
Lucifug.

They are.

Lucifer.

Friend, Happiness attend you.

Cobl.

Many Thanks to your Worship: What pity 'tis, so proper a Gentleman should be arrested?

Exeunt.