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THE HVE AND CRY AFTER Sir JOHN 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 linen Bandileers,
Exhausted of their sulpherous 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 eare,
Wiredrawn through all the questions, How & Where,
Each circumstance, so in the hearing Felt,
That when his ears are cropt hee'le count them gelt:
The sweeping Cassock scar'd into a Jump;
A signe the Presbyter's worne to the stump;
The Presbyter, though charm'd against mischance
With the Divine right of an Ordinance.
If you meet any that doe thus attire'em,
Stop them they are the Tribe of Adoniram.
What zealous Frenzie did the Senate seize,
That tare the Rochet to such Rags as these?
Episcopacy minc't, Reforming Tweed
Hath sent us Runts even of Her Churches breed;
Lay-interlining Clergie, a Device
That's nick-name to the stuff call'd Lops and Lice.
The Beast at wrong end branded you may trace
The Devils foot-steps in his cloven Face.
A Face of severall Parishes and sorts,
Like to the Sergeant shav'd at Inns of Court.
What mean the Elders else, those Kirk Dragoons,
Made up of Ears and Ruffs, like Duckatoons?
That Hierarchie of Handicrafts begun?
That new Exchange-men of Religon?
Sure they're the Antickheads, which plac'd without
The Church, do 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 they spake it out.
So by an Abbyes Scheleton of late,
I heard an Eccho supererogate
Through imperfection, and the voice restore
As if he had the hicop o're and o're.
Since they our mixt Diocesans combine
Thus to ride double in their Discipline;
That Pewles shall to the Consistory call
A Deane and Chapter out of Weavers-Hall;
Each at the Ordinance to assist,
With the five thumbs wof his groat-changing Fist.
Downe Dagon Synod with thy motley ware
Whilst we doe 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 Divinitie.
For where Sr. John with Jack of all Trades joyns
His Finger's thicker then the Prelat's Loyn's.
FINIS.