A REPLY IN THE DEFENCE OF OXFORD PETITION, WITH A DECLARATION of the Academians Teares for the decay of LEARNING, OR, The VNIVERSITIES Feares: ALSO THE DESCRIPTION OF A Reverend Coachman which preached before a company of Brownists.
BY THO. HERBERT.
London Printed, 1641.
ACADEMIANS TEARES, OR, THE UNIVERSITIES FEARES for the decay of LEARNING.
LIke to the Swan or Augur of the Spring,
In depth of woe thus I your sorrow sing
Learned Academians, eies dimm'd with tears,
The diapason of my sorrow beares:
I grieve, and for my griefe am checkt by those
Who seeme well learned, yet are learnings foes.
Wise they doe seem to be, but yet are fooles
For loving Wisdome, and yet hate the Schooles
Wherein the nutriment of wisdome dwels,
What! Is it wisdome for to seek new hels
In an eternall Theame of blisse? i'st fit
To approve non-sense to be reall wit?
How shall the Eunuch Scripture understand,
If Phillip not ascend the Chariot, and
Instruct? how shall dark sentences be made
cleare as the Sun, when Masters of each trade
Will be interpreters? Can Lands be free
From heresies, where all will Preachers be?
O surely no, where ignorance doth raigne,
Wisdome to visit that coast will disdaine;
When all shall teach, who will be learners then?
Sure brutish beasts must act the parts of men,
They must the audience be, and learne as much
As those which doe at learned fountain grutch.
The Universities I meane, who have
Too much they say, and yet do daily crave:
[Page 1]Suppose that some doe avarice affect,
Doe therefore all? suppose that some neglect
The feeding of their flocks, all don't doe so,
Why should then any seek all to overthrow?
Some Bishops have done ill (as heretofore
I have declar'd) let them then pay the score
They owe to death, let not such servants frowne
Have power to cast a faithfull Prelate downe,
Though jure divino Bishops must not be,
Yet from derision they ought to live free,
Which have not tainted been, such sordid slave
(Whose basenesse my sharp pen shall strike to's
Ought not to rail at them, which cannot tell (grave)
How they have liv'd, whether bad or well.
Ironmongers, Glovers, and each Coblers wit
Is bent to shoote, what is the mark they hit
But only Bishops? Lord Bishops they must fall,
The reason why? they are turn'd Papists all.
They love the Pope, and therefore they must down,
The Miter never shall ore top the Crowne:
God forbid that it should, O first let all
Which think but such a thought, by justice fall.
Let them be kept from the bright shining Sun,
I love Minerva, but Medusa shun.
Let vertue flourish, and let right take place,
But those confounded be, which vice imbrace.
Yet give me leave once more for to revie
Minerva's torment, Oxfords miserie.
Oxford Petition being dedicated
To the Parliament, was printed, hated,
Abused, and revil'd by each factious tongue,
Answered with envious lines, which stung
[Page 5]The very hearts of well affected men,
Who said, what would become of learning, when
Each Libeller durst scandalize it, none
Being cal'd in question for't; but yet did pray,
Schollers would patient be, untill a day
(Being consecrated by the Parliament)
Should come, wherein bad minded mens intent
should hindered be, scandalous Libels stopt,
The authors being hang'd, or their eares cropt.
This cordiall did give some ease, but still,
They are abus'd by Brownists words and quill,
Some of whose actions to you Ile descrie,
But first view Academians miserie.
Which thus begins.
Once Oxfords merits were accounted great,
Our learning reverenc't, but now are beat
To'th ground by each illiterate pen,
Being term'd no better than Romes serving men.
Like dolefull mourners we are forc't to walk,
Finding no fitter Theame on which to talk
Then our misfortune, which is Englands hate,
But yet are ignorant from whence our fate
proceeds, some say from envy it doth come,
Others because we much affected Rome,
By loving Canterbury, whose sad teares
We doe present you, being writ in our feares.
Canterbury his teares.
COuntry-men heare him which hath done you wrong,
Regard my teares, being Progn's sisters song.
A Clothiers Son I was, in Redding borne,
But now Archbishop, and each Vassals scorne;
[Page 4]And well I doe deserve it, because I
Delighted in nought but your misery.
I aim'd at that which equity forbid,
Still cogitating, that my plots lay hid;
I spurn'd at vertue, but did vice imbrace,
I ne're did dreame of justice, of disgrace,
Which would ensue my crimes, I still did thinke,
I was too high at sorrowes font to drinke:
But ah me wretch! my deeds are now well knowne,
Boreastick blasts my deeds have abroad blowne,
In each place Zephyrus not suffer'd is
With his milde gales to blow, envy doth hiss
At her chiefe Patron, for I term'd was so,
Which now doth heap upon me fatall woe:
Each Poet doth the Muses nine invite,
To aide his pen Satyrick strain to write
Against poore Canterbury, there are none,
Which in the least degree will me bemoane:
For if they should, I know the Commons hate
Would heap on them my dismall, mournfull fate.
My Flock I fed not, no more will they me,
With ought but new invented miserie.
Nor can I blame them for their deserv'd hate,
'Cause I did first make them unfortunate.
I caus'd their griefe, and why should they not mine:
It is not fit the Presser should the Vine
Cut downe, for being good and wholsome fruit,
Nor was it fit, those I could not confute,
For to confound, but now alas, 'tis past,
Wherefore those few daies I enjoy the waste,
In ecchoing forth lamentation
For their falls, and Englands vexation.
[Page 5]O what is man? why nothing. It were well
If he were so, then wide gaping hell
Had nought to doe him; if nothing, then
Nothing could torment him, but when
'Tis plainly prov'd, essence he hath from Jove,
Bestow'd on him, only for the great love
Which he did beare to him, if he abuse
That free-will-offring, and doe quite refuse
To be obsequious to his Gods command,
Kick at his salutes, and proudly withstand
His Makers ediots, then woe be to him,
He must be sure in brinish floods to swim,
Or burn eternally i'th infernall Lake,
Which but to name, each artery shake,
My limbes doe tremble, horror me afflicts,
Conscience accusing me of my vain tricks,
My corps, death feare not, 'tis the jem within,
Whose death I feare, depriv'd by my foule sin.
Pray for me Countrey-men, let curses cease,
Lest that you hinder my soules future peace.
Oxfords Answer.
Pray you for him, and us, but we for all,
Especially that learning ne're may fall.
Finis.
Of a reverend Coachman which preached before a comÂpany of Separatists.
AN honest Gentleman of the Inns of Court,
Amongst the Brownists meaning to resort:
His haire he cropt, and with a brothers pace,
With turn'd up eyes, he went to seek the place
Of their abode, at length he it doth finde,
And comming in salutes a sister kinde.
[Page 4]Sister quoth he, who i'st doth teach this day,
Insooth I know not brother she did say;
Last Sabbath day did teach a worthy man,
Whom once againe I'le heare if that I can.
What was his name said he, she could not tell,
Her only plea was, he taught very well;
A worthy man he was, a Coachman too,
He thought it strange a Coachman so should doe.
The Authors answer.
A Coachman, and a Preacher, O 'tis strange,
What meant these ideots for to exchange
Levi for Benjamin? What did they skip
From doing evill by his Coach-horse whip.
I doe conceit a whip would have been fit
Laid on their backs t'have taught them better wit.
If Coachmen turne Divines, poore Schollers take
Their office, perhaps in time they'le make
You Chaplaines to them, serve the Hall table,
And afterwards they'le make you able,
To minister the Sacrament, but oh!
I quake to tell it, too many have done so.
When I perceive Ironmongers, Walkers are
In Gods own Tabernacle, and doe not feare
His thundering rage (although they know full well)
For peeping in the Ark, how many fell.
My eyes I can't abstaine from springing teares,
Lest truth should cease, I'me fil'd with 1000 feares.
But yet I'le pray such things may be altered,
Or those which are upholders of them haltered.
Coachman, get up thy Box, Audience return,
Lest the same place doe prove your fatall Urn.
FINIS.