Part 2

Now what a whetstone was it to devotion To see the pace, the looks, and every motion O’th Sunday Levite when up stairs he march’t, And first beheld his little band stiff-starcht, Two caps he had, and turns up that within, You’d think he wore a black pot tipt with tin, His cuffs asham’d peept only out at ’s wrist For they saw whiter gloves upon his fist, Out comes his kerchief then which he unfolds As gravely as his Text, and fast he holds, In’s wrath-denouncing hand; then mark when he pray’d How he rear’d his reverend whites, and softly said A long _most Murcifull_, or _O Al_---- Then out he whines the rest like a sad ditty, In a most dolefull _recitative style_, His buttocks keeping Crotchet-time the while; And as he slubbers ore his tedious story Makes it his chiefest aime his chiefest glory, T’ excell the City Dames in speaking fine, O for the drippings of an old Sir loyne, Instead of _Aron_’s ointment for his face, When he cries out for _greace_ instead of _grace_. Up stept another then, how sowre his face is! How grim he lookt, for he was one oth’ _Classis_, And here he cries, _Blood, blood, blood, destroy, O Lord!_ _The Covenant-breaker with a two-edg’d sword._ Now comes another, of another strain, And he of law and bondage doth complain: Then shewing his broad teeth, and grinning wide, Aloud, _Free grace, free grace, free grace_, he cry’d. Up went a Chaplain then, fixing his eye Devoutly on his Patron’s gallery, Who as duty bindes him, cause he eats their pyes, _God blesse my good Lord and my Lady_, cryes, _And’s hopefull Issue_. Then with count’nance sad, Up steps a man, stark revelation-mad, And he, _Cause us thy Saints, for thy dear sake_, _That We a bustle in the World may make_, _Thy enemies now rage_, and by and by He tears his throat for the _fifth Monarchy_. Another mounts his chin, East, West, North, South, Gaping to catch a blessing in his mouth, And saying, _Lord! We dare not ope our eyes_ _Before thee_, winks for fear of telling lies. Mean while the vulgar frie sit still, admiring [Sidenote: Practice of Piety.] Their pious sentences, as all inspiring; At every period they sigh and grone, Though he speak sometimes sense, and sometimes none: Their zeal doth never let them minde that matter, It is enough to hear the Magpye chatter; They croud, they thrust, are crouded, and are thrusted, Their pews seem pasties, wherein they incrusted, Together bake and frie; O patience great! Yet they endure, though almost drown’d in sweat, Whose steaming vapours prove most singular To stew hard doctrines in, and to prepare Them, lest they should breed some ugly disease Being tak’n raw in queasie consciences. But further mark their great humility, Their tender love and mutual charity, The short man’s shoulder bore the tall man’s elbow, Nor he so much as call’d him Scurvy fellow, Wrath was forgot, all anger was forborn, Although his neighbour trod upon his corn; And in a word, all men were meek and humble, Nor dar’d the Sexton, though unfeed, to grumble; He honest man went with his neck a skew, Gingling his bunch of keys from pew to pew; Good man to ’s Market-day he bore no spleen, But wish’d the seven dayes had Sabbaths been; How he worships sattin, with what a Gospel-fear He admires the man that doth a bever wear, Room, room, bear leave, he cries, then not unwilling With a _Pater noster_ face receives the shilling. But what was more religious than to see The women in their strains of piety, Who like the Seraphins in various hews Adorn’d the Chancell and the highest pews. But now good middle-Ile-folks all give room, [Sidenote: Hey-day!] See where the Mothers and the Daughters come! Behinde the Servants looking all like Martyrs With Bibles in plush jerkins and blew garters, The silver-inkhorn and the writing book, In which I wish no friend of mine to look. Now must we not forget the Children too, Who with their fore-tops gay stand up ith pew, Alas-a-day! for there is great contention To tie this lock who hath the best invention. Well, be good children, for the time shall come, When on the Pulpit-stairs ye shall have room, There to be asked many a Question deep, By th’ Parson, with his dinner, half a sleep. But now aloft the Preacher ’gan to thunder, When the poor women they sit trembling under, [Sidenote: _Jack-a-Dandy!_] And if he name _Gehenna_ or the Dragon, Their faith, alas! was little then to brag on; Or if he did relate, how little wit The foolish Virgins had, then doe they sit Weeping with watry-eyes, and making vows One to have Preachers alwaies in her house, To dine them well, and breakfast um with gelly’s And candles hot to warm their wambling belly’s, And if the cash where she could not unlock it Were close secur’d, to pick her husbands pocket: Another something a more thrifty sinner To invite the Parson twice a week to dinner; The other vowes a purple Pulpit-cloth With an embroider’d Cushion, being loth When the fierce Priest his Doctrine hard unbuckles, That in the passion he should hurt his knuckles: Nay, in the Church-yard too was no small throng, And on the window-barres in swarms they hung: Nay, I could see that many Short-hand wrote, Where listning well, I could not hear a jote; Friend, this is strange, quoth I, but he reply’d, _Alas! your ears are yet unsanctify’d._ But Sermon’s done, and evening now approaches, The people walk, for none dare go in coaches; And as they go, God, Grace, and Ordinances, [Sidenote: To be heard of men.] Is all their chat, they seem in heav’nly trances; Thus they trim up their souls with holy words, Shaving off sin as men shave off their beards, To grow the faster; sins, they cry, are fancies, The Godly live above all Ordinances. Now they’re at home, and have their suppers eat, When _Thomas_, cries the Master, come repeat; And if the windows gaze upon the street, To sing a Psalm they hold it very meet. But would you know what a preposterous zeal They sing their Hymnes withall? then list’n well, The Boy begins, Hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, [Sidenote: To the Tune of _S. Margaret_s Chimes.] Hum, hum, hum, hum, _Thomas_ hum, hum, Did you enter down the ten yards of water’d-tabby to the Lady in _Covent garden_? Hum, hum, Yes Sir, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum, hum.-- Pray remember to receive the hundred pound in _Gracious-street_ to morrow.-- Hum hum hum. Hum hum hum hum _Mary_, hum hum hum hum, Anon forsooth. Pray remember to rise betimes to morrow morning, you know you have a great many cloathes to sope, hum hum, hum hum, hum hum, &c. [Sidenote: Behold the zeal of the people.] But Sunday now good night, and now good morrow, To thee oh Covenant Wednesday full of sorrow, Alas! my Lady _Anne_ wont now be merry, She’s up betimes and gone to _Alderman-bury_, Truly ’twas a sad day, for every sinner Did feast a supper then, and not at dinner; Nor men not women wash their face to day, Put on their cloathes, and pisse, and so away; They throng to Church just as they sell their ware, In greasie hats, and old gowns worn thread-bare, Where, though th’ whole body suffered tedious pain, No member yet had more cause to complain Than the poor nose, when little to its ease, A Chandlers cloak perfum’d with candle-grease, Commixing sents with a Sope-boylers breeches, Did raise a stink beyond the skill of Witches. Now steams of Garlick through the nostrils passage Made thorough-faires, hell take their bold embassage, With these _mundungus_ and a breath that smells Like standing-pools in subterraneall cells, Compos’d Pomanders to out-stink the Devil, Yet strange to tell, they suffer’d all this evil, Nor to make water all the while would rise, The women sure had spunges ’twixt their thighs: To stir at this good time they thought was sin, So strictly their devotion kept them in. Now the Priest’s elbows doe the cushion knead, While to the people he his Text doth read, Beloved, I shall here crave leave to speak A word, he cries and winks, unto the weak, The words are these, _Make haste and doe not tarry_, _But unto_ Babylon _thy dinner carry_, _There doth young_ Daniel _want in the Den_, _Thrown among Lyons by hard-hearted men_. Here my Beloved, and then he reaches down His hand, as if he’d catch the Clerk by th’ crown. Not to explain this pretious Text amisse _Daniel_’s the _subject_, _Hunger_ th’ _object_ is, Which proves that _Daniel_ was subject to hunger, But that I mayn’t detain you any longer, My brethren all prick up your ears, and put on Your senses all, while I the words unbutton. _Make haste_, I say, _make haste and doe not tarry_,] [Sidenote: _The Exposition._] Why? my Beloved, these words great force doe carry. Au! ’tis a waundrous emphaticall speech, Some men Beloved, as if th’ had lead i’ their breech, Doe walk, and some (as snails) doe creep as fast: Truly, my Brethren, these men doe not make haste. But be ye quick, dear Sisters, be ye quick, And lest ye fall take hope, hope’s like a stick. [Sidenote: 1 _Use._ Not like an anchor.]

_To Babylon_] Ah _Babylon_! that word’s a weighty one, Truly ’twas a great City, and a mighty one. Which as the learned _Rider_ well records, [Sidenote: Babel battered.] _Semiramis_ did build with brick and bords. Wicked _Semiramis_, Oh how I stretch! My spirit is mightily provok’d against that wretch. Lustfull _Semiramis_, for well I wist Thou wert the mother of proud Antichrist. Nay, like to _Levi_ and _Simeon_ from antiquity, The Pope and thee were sisters in iniquity. Strumpet _Semiramis_, like her was _non_, For she built _Babylon_, Ah! she built _Babylon_.

But, Brethren, be ye good as she was evil, [Sidenote: 2 _Use._] Must ye needs go because she’s gone to the Devil? _Thy dinner carry._] Here may we look upon A childe of God in great affliction: Why what does he’ aile? Alas! he wanteth meat, Now what (Beloved) was sent him for to eat? Truly a small matter; one a dish of pottage. But pray what pottage? Such as a small cottage Afforded onely to the Countrey swains, From whence, though not a man the place explains, ’Tis guess’d that neither Christmas pottage ’twas, Nor white-broth, nor cap’n-broth, good for sick maws, Nor milk-porrage, or thick pease-porrage either, Nor was it mutton-broth, nor veal-broth neither, But sure some homely stuff crum’d with brown-bread, And thus was _Daniel_, good _Daniel_ fed. Truly, this was but homely fare you’l say, [Sidenote: Would he have been so content?] Yet _Daniel_, good _Daniel_ was content that day: And though there could be thought on nothing cheaper, Yet fed as well on’t as he had been a reaper. [Sidenote: 3 _Use._] Better eat any thing than not at all, Fasting, Beloved, why? ’tis prejudiciall To the weak Saints, Beloved ’tis a sin, [Sidenote: Several Reasons.] And thus to prove the same I will begin: Hunger, Beloved, why? this hunger mauls, Au! tis a great mauler, it breaks stone-walls, Now my Beloved, to break stone-walls you know, Why ’tis flat felony, and there’s great woe Follows that sin, besides ’tis a great schisme, ’Tis ceremonious, ’tis Pagan Judisme. Judisme! why beloved, have you ere been [Sidenote: Description of Antichrist.] Where the black Dog of _New-gate_ you have seen? Hair’d like a Turk, with eyes like Antichrist, He doth and hath ye Brethren long entic’t. Claws like a star-chamber bishop, black as hell, And doubtlesse he was one of those that fell. Judisme I say is uglier than this dog: Truly _& cætera’s_ not so foul a hog. _Thrown among Lyons by hard hearted men_,] Here _Daniel_ is the Church, the _world_’s the Den. By Lyons are meant Monarchs, Kings of Nations, Those worse than heathenish abominations: Truly dear friends, these Kings and Governours, These Byshops too, nay all superiour powers, Why they are Lyons, Locusts, Whales, I Whales, beloved, Off goes our ears if once their wrath be moved; But woe unto you Kings! woe to you Princes! ’Tis fifty and four, now Antichrist, so saies My book, must reign three daies, and three half daies, Why that is three years and a half beloved. Or else as many precious men have proved One thousand two hundred and threescore daies, Why now the time’s almost expir’d, time staies For no man; friends then Antichrist shall fall, Then down with _Rome_, with _Babel_, down with all, Down with the Devil, the Pope, the Emperour, With Cardinals, and the King of _Spaine_’s great power; [Sidenote: And hey then up goe we.] They’l muster up, but I can tell you where, At _Armageddon_, there, Beloved, there, Fall on, fall on, kill, kill, alow, alow, Kill _Amaleck_, and Turk, kill _Gog_ and _Magog_ too. But who deare friends fed _Daniel_ thus forsak’n [Illustration] Truly (but there’s one sleeps, a would do well to awak’n.) As ’tis in th’ English his name ends in Ock And so his name is called _Habacuck_.

But in th’ originall it ends in Ock [Sidenote: The Doctrine of Generation.] For that deare sisters calls him have-a-Cock. And truly I suppose I need not feare But that there are many have a cocks here: The Laud increase the number of have a cocks, Truly false Prophets will arise in flocks; But as a farding candle shut up quite In a dark Lanthorn never giveth light; Ev’n such are they. Ay but my brethren deare [Sidenote: For Ministers may be Cuckholds.] I am no such Lanthorn, for my horns are cleare. But I shall now conclude this glorious truth With an exhortation to old men and youth: [Sidenote: _Use of Exhortation._] Be sure to feed young _Daniel_, that’s to say Feed all your Ministers that Preach and pray. [Sidenote: _Motives_ 1.] First, of all cause ’tis good, I speak that know so, [Sidenote: 4.] Fourthly, cause ’tis no evill for to doe so. [Sidenote: 3.] Thirdly, because ’tis very good, and twelfthly [Sidenote: 12.] Cause there’s nought better, unlesse I my selfe lye. But now he smells the pyes begin to reak, [Sidenote: Hunger a great enemy to Gospel duty.] His teeth water, and he can no longer speak: And now it will not be amiss to tell ye How he was troubled with a woman’s belly; [Sidenote: A crop-sick Sister.] For she was full of caudle and devotion, Which in her stomach raised a commotion, For the hot vapours much did damnifie, The woman went to walk in Finsbury: So though a while she was sustain’d with ginger, Yet at the length a cruel paine did twinge her; And like as marble sweats before a shower, So did she sweate, and sweating forth did poure Her mornings draught of Sugar sops and Saffron Into her sighing neighbours cambrick apron. At which a Lard she cry’d full sad to see The foule mishap, yet sufferd patiently: How doe you then she cry’d? I’me glad ’tis up: Ah sick, sick, sick; cryes one, oh for a cup Of my mint water that’s at home. As patt as might be, then the Parson cry’d, ’Tis good; one holds her head, let’t come let’t come. Still crying; just i’th’ nick, the Priest reply’d, Yea like a streame you ought to let it flow, And then she reach’d and once more let it goe. Streight an old woman with a brace of chins, A bunch of keys, and cushion for her pins, Seeing in earnest, the good woman lack it [Sidenote: A very great Creature-comfort.] Drawes a strong water bottle from her placket; Well heated with her flesh, she take’s a sup, Then gives the sick, and bids her drink it up. [Sidenote: A great crie, and a little wooll.] But all in vain, her eyes begin to rowle, She sighs, and all cry out, alas poore soule! One then doth pinch her cheek, one pulls her nose Some blest the opportunity that were her foes, And they reveng’d themselves upon her face, S. _Dunstans_ Divell was ne’re in such a case. Now Priest say what thou wilt, for here’s a chat Begun of this great Empirick, and that Renowned Doctor, what cures they have done: I like not _Mayern_, he speaks French sayes one. Oh sayes another, though the man be big, For my part, I know none like Dr. _Trig_. Nay, hold you there sayes t’other, on my life There’s none like _Chamberlain_ the man midwife. Then in a heap, their own receipts they muster To make this gelly, how to make that plaster, Which when she heares, but that now fainting lay, Up starteth she, and talkes as fast as they. But they that did not mind this dolefull passion Followed their businesse on another fashion, For all did write, the Elder and the Novice, Me thought the Church look’t like the six Clerks office. But _Sermon’s_ done, and all the folks as fast As they can trudge, to Supper now make haste: Downe comes the Priest, when a grave Brother meets him, And putting off his narrow-brimm’d hat, thus greets him: Deare Sir, my Wife and I doe you invite [Sidenote: A great sign of grace.] O’ th’ Creature with us to partake this night: And now suppose what I prepare to tell ye, The City-dame, whose faith is in the belly Of her cramm’d Priest, had all her cares in order, That _Gracious-street_, or _Cheapside_ can afford her. Loe first a Pudding! truly ’t had more Reasons [Sidenote: Bill of fare.] Than forty Sermons shew at forty seasons. Then a Sur-loyne came in, as hot as fire, Yet not so hot as was the Priests desire. Next came a shoulder of Mutton rosted raw, To be as utterly abolishe as the Law. The next in order was a Capon plump, With an Use of Consolation in his rump. Then came a Turky cold, which in its life Had a fine taile, just like the Citizens wife. But now by’r leave, and worship too, for hark ye, Here comes the Venson put in Paste by _Starky_: Which once set downe, there at the little hole Immediately in whips the Parsons soule. He saw his Stomacks anchor, and believ’d That now his belly should not be deceiv’d. How he leanes ore the cheere toward his first mover! While his hot zeale doth make his mouth run over. This Pastie had Brethren too, like to the Mayor, Three Christmas, or Minc’d pies, all very faire. Methought they had this Motto _Though they flirt us_, _And preach us down, Sub pondere crescit virtus._ Apple tarts, Fooles, and strong cheese to keep downe The steaming vapours from the Parsons crown. Canary too, and Claret eke also, Which made the tips of their eares and noses glow. Up now they rise, and walk to their severall chairs, When loe, the Priest uncovers both his eares.

[Sidenote: Grace before meat.] Most gracious Shepherd of the Brethren all, Thou saidst that we should eate, before the Fall; Then was the world but simple, for they knew Not either how to bake, or how to brew. But happily we fell, and then the Vine Did _Noah_ plant, and all the Priests drank wine. Truly we cannot but rejoyce to see Thy gifts dispenc’d with such equality. To us th’ast given wide throats, and teeth to eate; To the women, knowledge how to dress our meat. Make us devoutly constant in thy cup, And grant us strength when we shall cease to sup, To beare away thy creatures on our feet, And not be seen to tumble in the street. We are thy sheep, O let us feed, feed on, Till we become as fat as any Brawne. Then let’s fall to, and eate up all the cheer; Straight _So be it_ he cryes, and calls for beer.