<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
<TEMPHEAD>
<REVDESCR>
<CHANGE>
<DATE>2008-11-04</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080930.pdcc.</ITEM>
</CHANGE>
</REVDESCR>
</TEMPHEAD>
<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B04798">
<STC T="W">p3229a</STC>
<BIBNO T="oclc">53299214</BIBNO>
<VID>179953</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 8 -->
<HEAD>THE PRESBYTERY. A SATYR.</HEAD>
<EPIGRAPH>
<Q>Turba gravis paci placidoque inimico quieti.</Q>
</EPIGRAPH>
<LG>
<L>AS <HI>Alexanders</HI> ha&s;tned death did bring</L>
<L>Each of his Captaines to be made a King,</L>
<L>Even &s;o our Bi&s;hops ruines did preferre</L>
<L>Unto a Bi&s;hopricke each Presbyter;</L>
<L>But the &s;ame dangers from their league ari&s;e,</L>
<L>As ever did from th'others enmities;</L>
<L>Yet here they differ, th'other did advance</L>
<L>By their owne worth, the&s;e by their ignorance;</L>
<L>Th'other were great before, the&s;e till their raigne</L>
<L>Did fir&s;t begin, were &s;carcely knowne for men;</L>
<L>Th'other were fit to governe, &s;o are the&s;e,</L>
<L>As fit as Milk-Maids to weare Harne&s;&s;es:</L>
<L>Fine &s;oules indeed! curdled of &s;tench and du&s;t,</L>
<L>Borne for to break poore Chambermaids that ru&s;t</L>
<L>For want of u&s;e, fine motly <HI>Pre&s;ter-Johns,</HI></L>
<L>Old <HI>Phari&s;es</HI> in new Editions;</L>
<L>Young Blew-cap <HI>Ie&s;uites,</HI> Religions Dawes,</L>
<L>A <HI>Junto</HI> of Reformed <HI>Loyola's;</HI></L>
<L>Good Pulpit-Mountebankes, who with one breath</L>
<L>Can either Quack a Spirituall Cure, or Death;</L>
<L><HI>Antipodes</HI> of <HI>Rome,</HI> who though their feet</L>
<L>Seeme contrary, yet in one Centre meet;</L>
<L>Spruce Chri&s;tian <HI>Muftyes,</HI> but that <HI>Muftyes</HI> be</L>
<L>Continued, the&s;e a &s;ever'd quantitie,</L>
<L>Who out of many Beads one Bracelet ri&s;e,</L>
<L>And (if they be not hang'd up) make a noy&s;e;</L>
<L>Mo&s;t holy Gegawes, which make Elders dance,</L>
<L>But you are &s;trucke by <HI>Scotch</HI> Mu&s;icians;</L>
<L>Rattles of th'Go&s;pel, which &s;o active be,</L>
<L>That deafen all the better Harmonie:</L>
<L><HI>Dodona's Grove,</HI> or what&s;oever <HI>Knockes</HI></L>
<L>Will &s;ay, yo'are nothing el&s;e but vocall blockes,</L>
<L>And yet from every trunck we almo&s;t &s;ee,</L>
<L>Ari&s;e an Evangelicke Mercurie;</L>
<L>Things, which in nothing but their lyes come neere</L>
<L>The nature of the name they &s;ee me to beare;</L>
<L>Serious Jack-Puddings of Religion,</L>
<L>The Antima&s;que of Reformation;</L>
<L>The <HI>Pho&s;phors</HI> of new light, tho&s;e &s;pots that run</L>
<L>(To &s;top, not cleere the light) amid&s;t the Sun;</L>
<L><HI>Genera</HI> Fryars, they (with &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion) lye,</L>
<L>That &s;ay we'ave rooted out all Popery;</L>
<L>Their Capes pre&s;erve it, onely that their hopes,</L>
<L>A&s;pire unto plurality of Popes:</L>
<L>That which poor <HI>Canterbury</HI> nere profe&s;t,</L>
<L>Is now made good by every Pari&s;h-Prie&s;t,</L>
<L>Brave times indeed! 'las whither are we hurl'd?</L>
<L>What univer&s;all madne&s;&s;e &s;hakes the world?</L>
<L>What is all &s;pace &s;o empty, earth mu&s;t come,</L>
<L>And mount aloft to fill a <HI>Vacuum?</HI></L>
<L>Are our eares charm'd, that now all &s;ounds di&s;plea&s;e,</L>
<L>But a <HI>Scotch</HI> Bag-pipe? 'las what dayes are the&s;e!</L>
<L><HI>Wol&s;ey</HI> might be a Deacon, and here con</L>
<L>A farther le&s;&s;on of Ambition:</L>
<L>Nay, <HI>Machiavel,</HI> if he were now alive,</L>
<L>Would he but change Religion, might thrive;</L>
<L>Religion! 'las it is a crazie frame,</L>
<L>And &s;omewhat like the Synod, onely name,</L>
<L>Which like the great <HI>Mogores</HI> renowned &s;way,</L>
<L>The mo&s;t are pleas'd to mention, none obey,</L>
<L>Which like &s;ome glorious City ruined long,</L>
<L>Do's onely live in Paper and the Tongue.</L>
<L>Religion, which a blind man well might call</L>
<L>Immen&s;e, but one that's deafe, not finde at all,</L>
<L>That which the world doth generally di&s;gui&s;e,</L>
<L>That &s;tamp by which all knavery currant is;</L>
<L>Art thou thy &s;elfe, great Nymph? or el&s;e doe &s;ome</L>
<L>Deflowre thee, nay force thee away from home,</L>
<L>And make thee doe their drudgery? O &s;pleen,</L>
<L>Could&s;t thou but ri&s;e as &s;ome lungs &s;tretch'd ha been,</L>
<L>Thou might&s;t boil out more hot, then ere one brother</L>
<L>Could to pronounce damnation on another.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Erected &s;nakes, could but my anger now</L>
<L>So farre degenerate as &s;toope to you,</L>
<L>How could I thra&s;h you and abu&s;e you wor&s;e,</L>
<L>Then you your &s;elves can a rich Poet cur&s;e,</L>
<L>Wor&s;e then you cen&s;ure U&s;urers, when you look</L>
<L>On the lanke reckonings of an <HI>Ea&s;ter</HI> Booke:</L>
<L>Alas, how could I daube you, wor&s;e then ere</L>
<L><HI>Hicks</HI> did his <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> Concordance be&s;meare;</L>
<L>Or a hot Monke could with mouth-engines work</L>
<L>Strange executions again&s;t the Turke?</L>
<L>But Ile be &s;till, a County Maior can &s;oon</L>
<L>Quaffe all the&s;e vapours of Religion;</L>
<L>What? quaffe them &s;ay you; yes, they cannot be</L>
<L>Surcharg'd with too much Schoole-Divinitie;</L>
<L>They doe not feed on Fathers, them they hate,</L>
<L>Both as a hard an undige&s;ted meat;</L>
<L>Nay, tho&s;e that know them, intimately &s;ay,</L>
<L>They cannot Conjure by the <HI>Kabbala;</HI></L>
<L>Nay, mo&s;t oth' Patriarkes would be to &s;eek,</L>
<L>To tell their new confe&s;&s;ion in Greek;</L>
<L>But they who want all weapons, will not &s;trike,</L>
<L>But each prove a Rhetoricall <HI>Vandike,</HI></L>
<L>Wor&s;e then the running o'th'raines, which &s;ence</L>
<L>Tells onely evill in the con&s;equence;</L>
<L>But this will be when th'King their Sermons heares,</L>
<L>When <HI>Le&s;ly</HI> reads, and <HI>Pryn</HI> regains his eares,</L>
<L>When <HI>Edwards,</HI> that de&s;troying <HI>Amurath,</HI></L>
<L>His Inqui&s;itionary Swords &s;hall &s;heath</L>
<L>That puny <HI>Hercules,</HI> who fiercely &s;weats,</L>
<L>To &s;lay the Mon&s;ters he him&s;elfe begets;</L>
<L>The <HI>Engli&s;h Cadmus,</HI> who&s;e mo&s;t conquering pen</L>
<L>Sowes Dragons teeth to rai&s;e up armed men,</L>
<L>Who like the Maid to the great Victor &s;ent,</L>
<L>Makes poy&s;on now become his nouri&s;hment,</L>
<L>Who le&s;t the growing Sectaries &s;hould not live,</L>
<L>Beats them like Walnut Trees to make them thrive,</L>
<L>That Church <HI>Lycurgus,</HI> who to &s;top the &s;innes</L>
<L>Of wa&s;te and drunkenne&s;&s;e, cut down the <HI>Vines,</HI></L>
<L>That venerable &s;onne of fury, that</L>
<L>Makes mode&s;ty quite excommunicate,</L>
<L>Which in the Cla&s;&s;ick Ordinance mu&s;t come in,</L>
<L>As numbred for the &s;ix and thirtieth &s;inne,</L>
<L>By him you know the Brotherhood, this one</L>
<L>In time may make a Brotherhood alone:</L>
<L>But they are Planets that at di&s;tance run,</L>
<L>And <HI>Vines</HI> lookes like the picture of the Sun.</L>
</LG>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P>Printed in the Yeare, 16<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="missing" EXTENT="2 letters"></P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
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