LAMBETH FAIRE Wherein you have all the Bishops Trinkets set to sell.
Death close mine eyes with thy eternall doome,
Before this Faire be thus proclaim'd at
Rome.
O mìhi praeteritos referet si
Jupiter annos.
Qualis eram—
Printed at London by RY. ET. Anno Dom. 1641.
To the Reader.
THe rare poetick wits of these our times,
Are daily chanting curious Hymnes and Rymes.
Whose lines perfum'd, smell sweet as any Rope,
For
English Bishops, or the
Romish Pope.
But mine smell not so strong for I am sory,
Our
Bishops should change Caps with
Doctor story.
Then Reader now, if thou wouldst understand,
Why this same matter thus I take in hand:
Because I love my braine to excercise,
Though
Zoylous, hap, may thinke'ts otherwise,
Because I love to keep my minde from folly,
Or humour which is called Melancholy.
But some will say, perhaps, if this be true,
You might have kept it from the vulgar vew:
I answere no, for who could then repaire,
To buy new fashion robbes at
Lambeth Faire.
The Parliament hath p'uld them downe and
I
Have set there trinkets out for men to buy,
Lawn sleeves, Hoods Surplisses, with rest o'th rabble,
Thus ends the prologue, here begins the Fable.
LAMBETH FAIRE Wherein is sold, Ceremonies all Both new and old.
No sooner was the sable darknesse past,
And
Sol his eye on our Horizon cast
By whose bright beames those clouds dispersed were,
Which did benight the Land with horrid fear;
But presently the people heard strange Fables.
The Bishops went to
Lambeth with their Bables,
Where a
new Faire was lately consecrate
For Popish Garments, that were out of date:
And when their shops and stales, and booths were made,
With all things fitting for that
holy Trade:
O'th tops o'th standings all, for fear of evill,
Were Crosses set, to scare away the Divell:
With might and maine, the people 'gan to flocke,
And all were present there by nine a clock,
The Clearke o'th'
Faire was presently bespoken,
To give them liberty their stalls to open.
To keep out theeves the
keepers place he deemes;
But
Keeper he was run away it seemes:
[Page] Well let him goe, the Bishops cryed what then?
We have a nimble and quicksighted
Wren,
Who when he comes, can soar and fly about,
To spy, and keep the knavish Rable out.
The Master of the
Faire was cal'd upon,
But answer's made, he to the tower is gon;
That he was absent, it was taken ill,
But sure he went to th' Tower against his will:
Proclaim the Faire, the
Bishops all, they cryed,
For we dare hardly longer here abide;
The
Clearke gave leave, the
Cryer on a hill
Standing, began to cry with voice so shrill.
O-yes; O-yes; I do cry,
The Bishops trinkets who will buy.
This being done of
Bishops all the Crew,
Began with speed, their wearing robes to shew,
And with extended voyce, they all did cry,
Come Customers, see what you lake, and buy;
Heer's Vestments consecrate, all sorts and sizes,
You may have here, if you'l come to the prises:
Buy Fayrings for your children here are toyes,
Fit for your purpose, be they Gerls, or Boyes;
Caps for your Boyes to hurle into the aire,
And Beads for Gerles are here in
Lambeth Fayre:
What though these Robes were first devis'd in Hell,
Tush thats no matter, we'll good pen worths sell:
Here look upon them, they are very good and strong,
They'r neat and handsome, and will last you long,
They'r very full and large. you nere saw stronger,
I would not sell them durst I keep them longer.
[Page] Buy a
Crucifix, another loud doth call,
'T will scare the Devill and will preserve your soul?
Lay out your money, hang up worldly pelfe,
I will sel't cheaper, then I had it my selfe:
Its strange to see how men their money keepe,
What come you all to
Lambeth faire to sleep;
Come buy
lawn sleevs I have no money tooke,
Here, try them on, you'l like a Bishop looke
And may get honour, both of great and small,
And Lord it ore your fellow brethren all:
If that the times should chance once more to turne,
Then might you Lord it, like as we have done,
Come hither friend and buy this silken Gowne,
I'm sure you cannot match't in
Lambeth towne:
In this same Gown, did
Canterburis Grace,
At
High-Commission shew his gracelesse face;
Many a storme and shower it will abide,
Yea, and a world of knaverie it will hide;
Sir look upon't and view it at your leasure,
Goe to the price, for you I faine would pleasure,
Come buy his
Graces gowne, the price is small,
And if you will: I'l sell you grace and all.
Though he have worn't it's ne'r the worse for wearing,
Girt it but close, and never fear the tearing.
Come buy my
Crosier staffe, another he begins,
'Ts excellent to keep dogs from your shins:
Pray Sir let me some of your money take,
And keep this staffe for its old masters sake.
Another comes, as if his backe would breake,
Burthen'd with
vestures, and gan thus to speak,
Trinkets I have good store, within my packe,
I pray you view them, and see what you lack;
[Page] See for your love, and for your money buy,
Name what you want, He fit you presently,
My packe it is a
Wardrope, large and faire,
Wherein are
Mitters, Caps rotund, and square,
The rar'st Episcopals, that ever you did see,
Are in my packe, come, pray you buy of me;
Her's rich embroidred ware, chuse where you please,
I have a thousand such like knacks as these:
Buy this brave Rochet, buy this curious Cope,
The Tippit, Scarfe, they all came frome the Pope;
He sell them at a rate you cannot loose,
Or else exchange them for a pair of shoose;
I must to Rome, I can no longer stay,
I pray you buy them, I must hence away.
Then after that unto this jolly
Faire,
A little
Wren came flying through the aire.
And on his backe betwixt his wings he bore,
A minister stuft with
Crosses, Altars store,
With sacred
Fonts, and are guilt
Cherubims,
And bellowing
Organs, chanting curious
Hymnes,
The hallowed Host, cum Priests, and singing boyes,
With Antick Cringers, and a thousand toyes:
Thus then this mighty WREN, unto the
Faire,
Brought his
Cathedrall pack, thus stuft with ware;
The door's wide-op't, there thousands came to see,
The
Romish Reliques of the Hierarchie;
Where all were set to sale, and at low rate,
Because they gan to wax quite out of date,
Buy my high
Altars, he lifts up his voice,
All sorts of
Messe-bookes, here you may have choice,
Heres Bells
baptiz'd will make a dainty sound,
Pray if you please step in and ring them round:
[Page] Then after that were seen a
Regiment,
Of
Hell-borne Locusts from
Cocitus sent,
To draw a mighty cart wherein were brought,
Pluralitie of
Churches to be bought.
Then cry'd an other, Sir, what will you buy?
I pray step in Sir, do not so passe by.
Heer's a
Cathedra, once Sainct
Peters Chaire,
The rarest thing to buy in
Lambeth Faire.
The candid
Surplesse, and the wedding ringes:
Pictures for Bibles, and such pretty things:
Here's the late
Canons and the new found
oath:
To sell Et caetera I am very loath:
You formerly have heard by true relation:
These are the toyes we made i'th'
Convocation.
Oath ex officio, here if you will buy:
Or
High commission, take it presently.
Her's
Ember weeks with thin-chap
Iack-a-Lent,
To help you at a pinch when all is spent:
Her's
Holly dayes to sport the time away:
Or booke of pastimes for the
Sabbath day.
Her's
Deanes, and
Prebends, and the filthy Nest
Of
Pursevants, promotters and the rest,
Chancelours; Officials, Surrogates, and all
The lofty
Courtiers of
Commission Hall:
Come
Clergie Chapmen, to your
Hierarchie,
Heers ex'lent ware, as good as ere you see;
Iure Divino that's become our Doome,
We'l sel't for Wharfage to the coast of
Roome.
Burials and Churchings we have wondrous store,
Upon my word, they all come from the whore;
Then next to him, a fiery fat guts fell,
Brought six and twentie
Bishopricks to sell;
[Page] With gags and whips, and prisons for all those,
That should their cursed Hierarchie oppose,
With catch him
Pursevant, take him to the Iaile,
There let him ly without
Main-prise or
Baile,
'Ere he get from us, we will make him see
Experimentally, we Bishops be:
Our
Courts and Jurisdictions are at sale:
Come buy them quickly, 'ere they be too stale.
An other Bishop, with a Box did ride,
And with extended voice he loudly cry'd,
To Schollars all that
Ministers would be,
Come hither, buy the
Holy Ghost of me.
But
Simon Magus he was in the ground,
And none to buy the
Holy Ghost was found.
An other Bishop he a pack brought in,
The which was stuf'd with
Licences to'th brim,
And presently he cryeth out for fury,
Her's
Licences to preach, to Church, and bury.
If wedding's out and your dispos'd to wed,
Come buy a
Licence, and away to bed.
What all passe by? 'ts strange time turns her wheel,
And bends her brow upon us, that we feel
No
handsaile yet, our wares be charmed sure,
And (like our selves) ther's none will it endure,
Its doomd to dismall fate, despis'd and scorn'd,
Though never so costly, or so much adorn'd:
Her's
omne venale, yet no money flies,
Our ware's dog cheape, and thus credit dyes:
For such a
Faire I never did behold,
We bring our ware, but nothing can be sold:
I wonder said one, what was our intent,
To make our
Fair thus at the
Parliament.
[Page] For we are mocked hereby sawcy Jacks,
They bid the
Pedders, to put up their packes.
Another
Bishop lifting up his voice,
Cry'd out amain, of livings I have choice.
I'le sell you two or three, if that you please,
So you'l have money coming in with ease,
If that to preach, your self you can't indure,
Get some poore
Iourney-man to serve your
Cure;
You'l quickly light on such a one I trow,
We have made more, then how to live doe know.
Wax Candels, Tapors, another cryes and calls,
These brought I with me from
Cathedrall Paules,
They'l scare the Devill, and put him unto flight,
When he perceiv's a consecrated light;
When we at
Mattens and at
Even-song were,
We had them by us then, devoid of feare;
They'l bring delight unto your eyes and nose,
They burn so clear and smell so like a Rose,
And when you thinke that it hath burnt enough,
Then blow it out, you shall not smell the snuffe,
Or else you may on whom you will bestow it,
They'l joy to thinke a Bishop once did owe it.
Come hither Friend another loud doth call,
I'le sell you here my
Common-Prayer-Bookes all,
Sir view this same, and take it in your hand,
This book but lately no man durst withstand,
For if he did, and we thereof did hear,
We sure did make him a Commissioner,
And if he chanc'd appearance for to misse,
To
Limbo Patrum, he was sent for this;
And if he did not us some money give,
In that
Abysse we doom'd him still to live.
[Page] Money my hearns another loud doth call,
I see see I am not now in
Lambeth hall,
No sooner I from Dinner then was risen,
Men brought me chinke to free them out of prison,
I'm broke, I'm broke, another then did say,
Come buy my
hoods I can no longer stay,
What mean ye Sirs? the day is almost spent,
Come buy my Trinckets all incontinent;
Come hither Friend the price is very small,
Ile sell my coat, it is Canonicall,
Come buy this
Miter Sir, if ye be able,
The vertue of it is inestimable,
Buy't Sir, and wear it and then soone I hope,
You will rise higher and become a
Pope,
I tell you treuly had not fortune left me,
I would have kept it untill Death bereft me.
It now beginning to grow towards night,
Comes a grave
Doctour running in with might,
His courage stout was something now abated,
He brings his
golden Slippers consecrated,
And cry's come buy these
Slippers here of mine,
They are embossed with
Holinesse Divine,
They will in all your wayes preserve you sound,
And with them you may tread on holy ground,
If you'l but wear them, thus I'le tell you more,
You'l leave the earth and to the Heavens may soare
They'r fild with holinesse within and round about,
Here look upon them see how't breaketh out.
If not my slippers then my great
Bumbo,
I'le sel't you now; what answere:
No no no,
We thought our ware would sell at such a price,
And of our hands been vented in a trice:
[Page] That this last Act upon the
English Stage,
Would forded money, for your Pilgrimage
To
Babylon the great; how ere we dreamd no lesse,
Then Ransom for his prisoned
Holinesse;
But he nor we, must by this
Lambeth Faire,
Get help I see by this our
Popish ware.
Whilst thus the Bishops there, their guts and they,
Cal'd to their
Customers to come away,
A
Messenger came running through the croud,
And to the Bishops thus he spake aloud,
Away to
Rome or
Tiburn chuse you whether,
I know your shoes are made of
running leather:
For all the Lawes o'th Land you have out run,
And I come here to tell you what is done,
The
Parliament hath pul'd your pride toth' ground,
And by the House three times your voted downe,
Your wars not worth a—, for all your cogging,
See where the Hangman comes away be jogging,
Alas cride they, is all our labour losse?
Others get money, we have but the crosse
For we are crossed in our expedition,
And fly we must, for all
Oxfords Petition,
Yet notwithstanding herein lies our hope,
We shall be entertained by the
Pope.
With that like men of Sences quite bereft,
They ran away and all their trinkets left,
A friend of mine to me did then repaire,
Desiring me to pen this famous. Fair.
Which I have done and have it here to sell,
Come buy the Fair of me and so farewell.
FINIS.