"Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have,
With sumptuous array, most gallant and brave;
With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,
Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the Pope."

"Now, welcome, Sire Abbot," the King he did say; "'Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.

"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead,
With my crowne of golde so fair on my head,
Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe,
Tell me to one penny what I am worthe."

"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jewes, as I have bin told: And twenty-nine is the worth of thee,

For I thinke thou art one penny worser than hee."

The King he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,
"I did not think I had been worth so littel!
Now, secondly, tell me, without any doubt,
How soone I may ride this whole world about."

66

You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe;

And then your Grace need not make any doubt
But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."

The King he laughed, and swore by St. Jone,
"I did not think it could be gone so soone!
Now from the third question thou must not shrinke,
But tell me here truly what I do thinke."

"Yea, that shall I do, and make your Grace merrye:
You thinke I'm the Abbott of Canterburye;
But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see,
That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee."

The King he laughed, and swore by the masse,
"I'll make thee Lord Abbot this day in his place!"
"Now, naye, my liege, be not in such speede,
For alacke I can neither write, ne reade."

"Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee,

For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee;
And tell the old Abbot, when thou comest home,

Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John."

-"Reliques of Ancient English Poetry."

The Distracted Puritan

AM I mad, oh, noble Festus,
When zeal and godly knowledge
Have put me in hope

To deal with the Pope,

As well as the best in the college?

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice,
Mitres, copes, and rochets;

Come, hear me pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with crotchets.

In the house of pure Emanuel
I had my education,

Where my friends surmise
I dazel'd my eyes

With the sight of revelation.

They bound me like a bedlam,

They lash'd my four poor quarters;
Whilst this I endure,

Faith makes me sure

To be one of Foxe's martyrs.

These injuries I suffer

Through antichrist's perswasion:
Take off this chain,

Neither Rome nor Spain

Can resist my strong invasion.

Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us!)

I have knock'd off three already;

If they let me alone

I'll leave him none:

But they say I am too heady.

When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city,
I met the great red dragon;

I kept him aloof

With the armour of proof, Though here I have never a rag on.

With a fiery sword and target,

There fought I with this monster:
But the sons of pride

My zeal deride,

'And all my deeds misconster.

I have seen two in a vision

With a flying book between them.
I have been in despair

Five times in a year,

And been cur'd by reading Greenham.

I observ'd in Perkins' tables

The black line of damnation;

Those crooked veins

So stuck in my brains, That I fear'd my reprobation.

In the holy tongue of Canaan
I plac'd my chiefest pleasure;
Till I prick'd my foot

With an Hebrew root,

That I bled beyond all measure.

I appear'd before the archbishop,
And all the high commission;
I gave him no grace,

But told him to his face,

That he favour'd superstition.

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice,

Mitres, copes, and rochets;

Come hear me pray nine times a day,
And fill your heads with crotchets.

-"Reliques of Ancient English Poetry."

Lilli Burlero

Ho! broder Teague, dost hear de decree?
Lilli burlero, bullen a-la,

Dat we shall have a new deputie,

Lilli burlero, bullen a-la,

Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la,
Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la.

Ho! by Shaint Tyburn, it is de Talböte:
Lilli, etc.,

And he will cut de Englishmen's troate.

Dough by my shoul de English do praat,
Lilli, etc.,

De law's on dare side, and Crish knows what.

But if dispence do come from de pope,
Lilli, etc.,

We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope.