OR BALAAM REPROVED, FOR Cudgelling the Asse.

ALas! the Asse is cudgel'd in good sadnesse:
Why so I pray? To shew the Prophets madnesse.
Patron of scandall and of ignorance;
From which we prayed a deliverance.
This was the sum of the Petition,
Which guilty Balaam termes sedition.
Who, but a soule empty of grace, and reason
Would think this cry preparative to treason?
At vices Orthodox the poor Asse greives:
Not at the Cassocks or the rev'rend sleeves.
These are, by Canon, decent, yet I shall
Think constant preaching more Canonicall.
Are Mitres, Cassocks of so neer a kin
To sloth and drunkennesse, that beastly sin,
That who the Clergy warnes these sins to flee,
[...]oth mean, Bishops and Priests there, must not be?
[...]he Crown and Mitre are so haply twisted,
The last infring'd, the first is then resisted.
[...]t both with equal zeal disown they do
Factious Preachers, and bibbing Readers too.
Where's the sedition then? 'tis in a dish
Cook't up, yes the water turnes pork to fish.
Ill manners 'tis sure, soft, the man's well bred,
His belly is not empty, but his head.
Foul Patriot, scandal and vices support.
Kickt by an Asse, thou put'st him into Court.
A Priest well drench't, the Constable did seize on,
'Twas cry'd, hold factious Officer, 'tis treason.
At length the Pris'ner sweares, 'twas said, swear on,
This Parish is full of sedition.
'Tis an Essay to Church and States confusion,
To shew the Larck's grief, or Priests collusion,
There needs no Cham, these secrets to betray,
Darknesse can't hide what's done in the mid-day.
Is this the man of God? or is he sent
To drink and swear, for th' Gospels ornament?
Reviv'd impieties, Black mouth'd debaucherie,
Ne're can be whit'ned with thy Poetry.
Unhappy solecisme, when was it true
That Sin's ruine would make the State to rue,
Or Church? whose noble growth and lasting age,
Decay of vice increase of grace presage.
Arm then (ye Mitred Lords) be cloth'd with power,
Full charge your Canons and then let them Roar
'Gainst Scandal, Ignorance, and Lazinesse,
'Gainst saucy pride, and factious peevishnesse.
Hophni and Phinehas, their fatal doom,
Should startle those that succeed in their room.
The Sacrifice was then abhorr'd, they'r slain,
Eli falls too, 'cause he did not restrain.
Long live King Charles, prosper in Grace and Glory,
Let's Name be written in Eternal Story.

LONDON, Printed for the Author, 1661.

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