TO the shame and dishonor of his native soil, His birth­place, and pranks there. never before tainted either with producing or harbou­ring any venemous or noisome creature; He was born and bred (at Duns-acre) in the Isle of Thanet: from whence, after some notable exploits construed by his fond and partial parents for early Omens of his innate wit, and good prognosticks of an inge­nious head-piece, (such as his new-found way for descending the Cliffs to catch Jack­daws by the help of a rope fastened to his Fa­thers Cows horns:) he is transplanted into the Continent: and, that art might improve na­ture, sent to Canterbury School, His behaviour at School. where though un­der the King of School-masters, (pag. 3.) such a Block-head he proves, that he quickly disap­points his friends, and discredits his Master. [Page 2] Ex omni ligno non fit Mercurius, is an old saying, which our Dick at once both revives and verifies by his non-proficiency. Senior happily (as he pretends) he was, that is, Senior Dunce of all the School. To give him his full due, we will grant him famous too, right famous indeed (not to mention here his many rakehelly pranks usual­ly chastised with a swinging rod provided for the nonce, and called by his name) for a bloody persecution which the Fox escaped by burrow­ing in a bench-hole, retaining to this day the name of Culmers hole See the An­tidote, p. 3..

2. He doth very well to commend his Ma­ster, but it were better (for his own credit) that his Master, if alive, had less cause to discom­mend him. Under him indeed, though not from him, he made a beginning with some proficien­cy in his laudable, liberal Arts of Swimming, Thieving, Cuffing, Footbal-playing, &c. which af­terwards he prosecuted, At the Uni­versity. perfected, and became Master (or, if you will Doctor) of at Cambridge; where having gotten his bag fuller of stollen Wheat See the An­tidote, p. 6. then his brain of solid wit, after a no­table escape from a second bloody persecution by the hand of the Butler in Magdalen Colledge cellar, for playing the thief, he is lookt upon as a great shame to the place: and least his con­tinuance there might occasion too great a flux of tears from that mournful Saints eyes, expel­led the Colledge; who, after some vagaries, plants himself at Goodnestone (p. At Goodnesto. 3.) where falling to the exercise of his pretious gifts, he breaks the Laws of Hospitality, playes the perfidious [Page 3]guest, and turns Traytor to his Host, upon pretence of love to his Prince, putting fair for the life of his Parishioner See the An­tidote, p. 17. &c, p. 7.

3. Soon after being cashiered thence, (whi­ther though the name he brought were bad e­nough, yet, as at all removes, he left a worse behinde him:) he goes a Bulling See the same, p. 10. to Herbaldown, and there bellowing it out a while, he findes himself ere long eclipsed by the more illustrious Cathedralists, his neer neighbours. Wherefore having gotten (what he long wished and watch­ed for) an opportunity for revenge, His plundoring the Cathedral. he brussels up to them, and as if now he would scratch out their eyes, who would once have well scourged his breech; under a pretence of letting in new lights, he falls (like one fitter indeed to make a Thresher then a Scholar) to threshing down the old, (p. 5.) their much admired, but since the Reformation, never until then abused windows. And, to clear the place of all monuments of superstition, down go Crowned Kings for Ca­nonized Saints: and, to shew whose son he was, he knocks down Christ, and spares the De­vil. Nor stayes he there, but (that all might dance after his own pipe) his next care is to break the Organs: and carrying them in a tri­umphant bravado up into the high Steeple, he there proclaims his much higher valour in the conquest, both of them, and those whose of right they were, by setting them (more like a scoffing Lucian then a sober Christian) to the tune of a scurrilous and a lousie catch. In fine, he makes such a foul work all the Church over, (for [Page 4]which nothing more sure then that his name will stink to all posterity,) that for want of fair water, he is fain to use foul, turning that beastly Cock in his own stinking Cod-piece, for water to lay the dust. From what time no marvel if per­secutions abide him, the very Heathens observing a curse due to that wretch that should mingere in patrios cineres, dare to play the beast, and piss upon the sacred ashes of his Ancestors.

4. By the way, here I expected some touch at least of a persecution betiding him in these his Cathedral actings. Mr. P.E. For a young Gentleman of the City observing from without, his wilde and outragions zeal within, in making such ha­vock of the goodly windows upon the account of Idolatry, and coming up towards him, I­ronically falls to applauding of the action, cal­ling to him, and telling him it was a very good work, and that he would join with him in it and help him. And thereupon catching up a good thumping stone, takes his aim at the place where the Pike-man was standing, moun­ted on his Haman like ladder: and intending it not at the glass but the glass-breaker, throws it with all the power he could, and had not some iron bars interposed between his pate and the stone, it had done such execution as would have quite marred his making of Looking-glasses, & put an end, if not to the work, yet to the work­man, by dashing out those little brains he had; who therefore me thinks should not have omit­ted this out of his Persecution-legend. But will you know the reason? the Gentleman is yet a­live, [Page]and no way (as you must believe his other Persecutors are, eo nomine;) become a signal example of divine vengeance. He is not indeed, but one that possibly (and not improbably) may live to see the Cathedral Thresher, who was so nimble to run up the ladder here, as willing to come down another elsewhere, which (alas) he cannot do without breaking his neck; it be­ing such a scurvy kind of ladder as will admit of no descent but by a rope with such a hampering noose, that (if it be not misplaced, as in this action it was) will neither suffer his advance to heaven, nor his retreat to earth, but take him short of both, as unworthy of either, and only fit to be hanged up as a PARISH LOOKING­GLASSE FOR PLUNDERERS OF MIN­STERS.

5. But to go on with our story, the late eclipsed Worthy by this time having gotten together a sufficient stock of merit, and scorning there­fore any longer to serve as a Journey-man, who had now so well deserved to set up for himself, he leaves his Curate-ship at Herbaldown, and because others will not prefer him, His intrusion at St. Stephens. he will pre­fer himself. Like a covetous Ahab then envying his neighbour Naboth a better Vineyard then his own, he confidently thrusts his sickle into a much worthier mans harvest at St. Stephens See [...] Antido [...]: whence being ready (as once that Martyr, but in a better cause) to be stoned for his pains, by the inraged Parishioners, sensible of their true Pastors oppression: and after a repulse (p. 9.) first at Cartham, and afterwards at Ickham, (for [Page 6]the Devil himself is not more unwelcome every where) he makes towards his own beloved Home-stal, Afterwards at Mynster. and pitching upon Mynster, as a fit, because a fat, morsel for his insatiate maw, he employes all the arts he was Master of, in sup­planting and pulling down an eminent Doctor for implanting and setting up that excellent Dunce himself, (p. 10.) And not satisfied with his persecution of the Shepherd, unless he may also prey upon the Sheep, (whom he findes averse to such a wretched exchange, and very desirous to cast such a rider as gets up into the saddle on the wrong side;) he throws off his vi­sard, and plainly shews that he sought not them but theirs, not the Flock but the Fleece: that by the saving of their souls he meant the gaining of their Tithes, not caring so much to reform their lives, as to improve his own lively-hood, being one whose godliness consists onely in gain. In­deed, whatsoever swam at the top, such was the foul and faeculent bottom of that gilded and specious design. His pranks there. For now, like a ve­ry Tyrant or a Tyger, though he have not wherewith to nourish their souls, yet he will enforce them to cherish his body; like a barking Cur snarling at the detainers, though but of Mint and Cumin, and scouring his foul mouth upon them in such a sort of silly quibling nick­names, as shall sooner render himself then them ridiculous to all that truly know both: whilst the spiteful wretch may justly laugh at his own folly for thinking to fright men with such chil­dish scare-crows; and by that old brawling [Page 7]whores trick, (which using so much thither, he learned at Billings-gate) of calling Whore first, discovers one other of those arts whereof he is truly Master: the grand Persecutor. of Kent and Christendom crying out of persecution, and thinking to make it visible to all the world by a false, flattering and partial Looking­glass: which notwithstanding is not so impe­netrable but that a weak sight may look quite through it, or but turning to'ther side, plainly see that Catilina Cethegum, that 'tis the Wolf complains of worrying by the Sheep, the Lion by the Lambe, the Vulture by the Dove: But he who hath least cause is most forward to com­plain, and however enamour'd of himself, is indeed a fouler, uglier and much more odious Persecutor (both of Pastor and People) then any mirror can fully represent.

6 To proceed, Mynster he gapes for, and Myn­ster he gets: and behold now the strong man is in possession, and yet without that mutual honey­love between Minister and People, which of him in that case is observed, (p. 26.) nay, with so much of (what he well deserv'd) ill will and odium of all the Parish, (who were not such arrant Asses as willingly to suffer such a fool to ride them: or tamely to submit their necks to such a Swine-heards Hogs-yoak, p. 2.) that, for preventing the Canterbury Bonfires, (as a better argument for keeping him in, then any from his own worth and merit) he escapes an Ejecti­on by the Assembly of Divines, (p. 11.) (and is so abetted by another Assembly, as that fin­ding [Page]him so happy and dextrous) at saving of souls at home, he is sent on the same errand a­broad. And because he cannot get his neigh­bouring Ministers good will to associate with them in their Margate Lecture (where they knew him so ill beloved, An intrusion at Margate. as he could neither do them any credit, nor the people any good) he by high and strong hand obtrudes himself, (p. 13.) but with so much distast both to Ministers and peo­ple, that to save his pains, and their patience in hearkening to such an impertinent babler, the Lecture falls.

7. So that thus repulsed, home again he comes, where following his Barn more then his Book, his Tith on the week-day closer then his Text on the Lords; he hath not time enough in the day, but borrows a part of a Moon-light night (the more proper season for a deed of darkness, and wherein, whilst true men sleep, thieves and robbers play their pranks) to steal up into the Steeple, Set by the D. on a Pinnacle of the Temple. (p. 14.) and being by (that Prince of darkness) the Devils help placed on the Pinnacle of it, he soon rewards him for his pains, by casting down, not the Parish true eye­sore, himself, but that Devillish eye-sore (the Church and Christians ancient badge and ban­ner) the Cross.

8. Now could the Parish have been as soon to rid of their Cross, which but that you would think I meant himself, I would call a worse, the Bells, to which we are now making, should not I conceive have been so speechless as it seems they were, (p. 27.) when but for his Wives great [Page 9]iron pestle, Thumping the clapperless Bels with his P. he means (as Fools have good tooles) his own great swinging pisle, they had been as mure and silent there, as the good people endea­voured to make him be below, when they put him to get in like a thief (as he was) by a (shit­ten) window, and rewarded some of his very little flock with a foul stile without, and others with a filthy pew within, and yet (what say they?) good enough for such as could find in their hearts to go a calving, and lend their ears to such a bleating Bell-weather; such a mer­cenary Balaam, as he where ere he comes is held no better; and particularly with his very testimonialists at Canterbury, (p. 8.) who long ere this finding themselves mista­ken in countenancing a ravenous Wolfe un­der a sheeps skin, are no less ashamed of him, then he is proud of them, wishing (many of them) they had not so much cause with just re­gret to say, Litera scripta manet.

9. VVell, but to Canterbury we have brought him, where for a while we shall leave him, Preaching to the walls. play­ing the Pulpiteer, but preaching, as at home, in a manner to those walls which can hardly hold any auditors but such as are surprized by being not aware of his turn: the people there ge­nerally abhorring such an accursed instrument of the barbarous spoyle, and beastly profanati­on of that most incomparable ornament of the place and Nation, their once flourishing, now (thank the Devil and Dick) fading, Dick a plum-porridge Priest falling Ca­thedral and watching an opportunity for a full revenge upon that impious Herostratus, no mar­vel if he found it better playing the Plum-por­ridge [Page 10]Priest, (p. 30.) and filling his panch as he did with a first and second mess of good stew'd-broth, and a Nativity-pye in Mr. Philips Parlor on a Christmas-day (p. 29.) without the least scandal or scruple of conscience upon the account of superstition, nay with thanks and approbation as (in terminis) very season­able fare: then adventuring his person among the inraged Christmas-men, who perhaps might have thoughts of such suitable wages for his not forgotten, though unrewarded impious Church-work, not to be expiated by his many vaunted good-works, (p. 30.) as that kind of ad­vancement he speaks of, but with a shorter lad­der I believe then served his turn there, and a rope not so misplac't as then.

10. Playing the Otter. Thus indeed they had saved his pains in swimming and diving, as shortly after, to get to Sandwich, (p. 31, 32.) from whence acted and affrighted as much, if not more, by that Neme­sis à tergo, his own guilt, then others malice, he trots to Deale, where we must imagine him taking Sanctuary in his Cosen Culmers chimney corner, Preaching in a chimney corner. and there entertaining mine Host and his family with a Winters tale, or a Tragick­comaedy of his hard, but happy escape; as late­ly from the Gallows, so now from the Billows, from hanging at one time, and drowning at an­other: and in a woful manner recounting a deal of other such pittiful stuff and stories of his heavy persecutions, as set his tender-hearted Host a weeping, until at length out comes the tale of a Turd, the beshitten stile and pew, when presently the scene alters, the Heraclitus [Page 11]turns Democritus, mine Host now laughs as hear­tily as he wept before, and doubtless becomes a suter to his guest (for the honour of their name and family) by some godly book or ballad, to give the world an account (as now he hath done in his Martyrological Apology) of all his sad disasters, and wounderful deliverances. The contents of which rare Master-piece, especial­ly in the 29 page, as it makes me call to mind the story of A-JAX, so that part of it consider­ed and compared with the precedent, full of lamentable and tragical tales, hardly to be read by any but Stoicks or stocks with dry eyes, puts me also in mind of such another Preacher as the Author, the famous Scogan, Scogans Ape. who with his forrowful face, set one part of his Auditory on weeping, and with his open A—at the same instant set the other on laughing.

11. But to return to our Pilgrim, who (to case the Land a while of her unprofitable bur­then) puts to Sea, and safely gets to London, (p. 32.) whither if we follow him, we may finde him, after a sad rehearsal Sermon of his many sufferings for the cause (wherein he speaks righ­ter then he is aware, having ever given a very just cause for all his sufferings: Pratling at Berdmondsey.) and a use of ex­hortation to the Brethren at Berdmondsey to pitty his case, but especially to resent the foul abuse and beastly offront offered to a neigh­bour of theirs, a London Dame (p. 29.) to the spoyling of her sattin peticoat and her devoti­on to boot, (whereof he gave them such a sweet relation as would not out of their nostrils a [Page 12]good while after:) he takes his leave of them to go tell the same story (decies repetita placebit) to the Army, under whose protection he makes a cowardly retreat by the way of Wy, Railing on the living, and rashly censu­ring the dead. (p. 32.) where (as his manner is throughout the whole Pamphlet, or rather Pasquil, being stuff'd with nothing more then base invectives on the living and bitter censures on the dead, all whose suf­ferings, as if of the Cabinet counsel with God himself, he ascribes to a just judgement from that divine hand upon them for persecuting such a darling of Heaven, as he by his false Looking­glass endeavours to appear:) he so insults over a dead Lion, a valiant but unfortunate Gentle­man, that I cannot but wonder at the surviving brother, that with patience and silence he can put up and passe over so great an indignity of­fered to his brothers memory: how he can for­bear to cast stones at his pate that shall thus cast dirt in his brothers face; De mortuis nil nisi bona. an impiety abhorred even of Heathens, and deserving Scorpious or the lash of some outragious fury to chastise it.

12. But hoping on this hint (though some say his mouth is stopped, and his hand stayed, with a book) he may be rouzed to do his brother, and therein himself right; I shall leave him, and return to that snarling Cerberus, who at length once more recovers his kennel. But expect his long resting there we may not: for like a Knight errant, Dick a Non-Resident. or a more arrant Non-Resident then any against whom he clamours, (p. 26.) a meer wandering Levitical Renegado, (p. 37.) he is continually in motion, once a [Page 13]week at least, measuring the distance between East-Mynster and West-Mynster, and out of a pe­nurious baseness seldome or never passing be­tween London and Gravesend but by the common Tilt-boat, amongst his Peers, I confess, tag, rag & bobtail, a rabble of sordid, nasty, lousie people: & yet somtimes so invisibly by lodging and lay­ing himself up, or rather down, Persecuted by the water­men. under the ben­ches on purpose to avoid the water-mens perse­cution for his six penny fare, that he is fain either to be kickt up like a dog, or, as once at Canterbu­ry-School, drawn out by the heels, to the wonder of his fellow-passengers, but not of the water­men, which have been accustomed to his hiding­fox tricks.

13. But he is by this time on shore, and being gotten to the Exchequer, Very sensible of the want of the Eccle­siast. Court. (p. 33.) is there pre­ferring (what alas he cannot do in the Ecclesia­stical Courts, which, to the great prejudice of such faithful Ministers, were unluckily abolished, p. 2.) a Lye-bill against some of his Persecu­tors, that is, the detainers of those Tithes where­of (as they are a sort of knowing men, and with­al of more conscience then himself) they know him to be a meer Usurper, and not lesse out in calling himself their Pastor, then he was ere­while in saying that Pontius was the Christian name of Pilate, (p. 34.) Indeed admit this, (that he is of right the parish Minister of Mynster) and then what he sayes is somewhat: Not rightful Minister of Mynster. but if on the contrary de facto only, he thrusts his sickle into anothers harvest: or, admitting the Living to be void, if such a one obtrude himself upon [Page 14]the people, that is so notoriously unworthy as to become the odium and out-cast of all places; not one, but all, both places and persons, where he is known, rising up and bandying themselves against him, either to keep him out, and stave him off that he come not in, or if gotten in, be­ing ever restless, and never at quiet till he be spewed out: if such a one as he, so foully scan­dalous for his life, (by many strange piacula a p­pearing by this Counter-mirror Whereof much more in the Antidote, throughout.) and such an Ignoramus for his learning, (if he will be judged by his own book) as utterly unable to return them, Quid pro quo, a recompence in teaching for his maintenance in Tithes; if such a one, I say, shall call and hold himself to be the Mi­nister of Mynster, as it is no other then petitio principii, a craving to have that yielded which until it be proved ought not to be admitted: so if on that account the people shall with­hold their Tithes, and be worried and hurried up and down for it by such a Priest, let equal Judges say, which of the two, is the Per­secutor.

14. But whatever he be, we must remember where we last left him, and that was at the Ex­chequer, where it may be doubted he found but cold entertainment, for we shall have him next not much rejoycing, though warming him­self at a Bonfire (p. 36.) and for his Readers recreation (that hath quite tired his eyes with poaring so long upon a dull and dusty Looking­glass) rewarding his patience, and pleasing his ear another while with a piece of Thanet Poetry; [Page 15]a Ballad of Jack Benet. Dick turned Ballad-singer. But (as there are two of the name) he sayes not which: I shall there­fore, to prevent a mistake of the wrong for the right, adventure also on a few rimes in behalf of the true.

But our Ballad-singer (who is very fugitive, and never stayes long at a place) having sung out his song, and turn'd over a new leaf, (p. 37.) is gotten to Billings-gate, where (as Ballad-mon­gers are) being taken for a rogue and a va­grant, he hath much ado to escape (what by good hap a Scribe at hand was ready to write) [Page 16]a Mittimus from thence to (a fit cage for such birds as Ballad-makers to sing in) Newgate. But his time is not yet come, Like to be sent to Newgate. though in good time it may, notwithstanding his many testimonials from several places, which are now no better then so many old Almanacks, out of date, and which indeed, in most mens judgement, are but the products either of fear or flattery: some of the subscribers out of fear of his displeasure, ne noceat, (as the Indians worship the Devil:) others out of flattery, and a seeming compli­ance with such an active Zealot for the Cause, none out of love holding forth a hand to him, but many (as once his Best friend, or friend Best) out of hatred, to cuff his ears and cudgel his coat.

16. But see he is gotten back to Mynster, (p. 39. Turn'd Look­ing-glass ma­ker.) where we shall leave him making of Look­ing-glasses, and saving the souls of as many as will pay him, which he hath taken a course shall be but few, by making it a certain note, or a sure sign of a good Minister (p. 37.) to be opposed by all his Parish. And thus, like a learned Dis­putant, hath he brought himself into a very fine Dilemma. For either the people must keep their money, Taken in a Di­lemma. or else the Priest must lose his cre­dit: a very good hint to the whole Parish to have a care of avoiding that proverbe: A Fool and his money are soon parted.

17. And thus much have you of the life of this faithful Minister, The Conclusi­on. which is as much as the Lock­ing-glass affords. If you want more, you must have patience with me until further inabled by such another Mirror; which, this going off so [Page 17]well, we have all reason shortly to expect, if we may be so happy hereafter as heretofore, that neither hanging at land, nor drowning at Sea deprive us of the Crafts-mans: which whoso does not deprecate, let him be condemn'd to fire and faggot, being made to contribute his share of both to that common pile, whereof no doubt both at Canterbury and Mynster, there will be need enough for drying up that Ocean of tears which me thinks I see gushing from the eyes of a multitude of mourners greedily as­sembling to condole the loss of so universal a Darling, and with joined hands throwing them­selves in a round about the flaming pile, and e­jaculating this doleful Dirge and Ditty: