WELL met good Master Needham.

I am heartily glad to see you here, how have you canvas'd the course of the World this many a day good Master Poorest.

Good Sir, take the paines as to walke into Paules Church, and wee will conferre a little before Sermon beginnes.

With all my heart, for I must not so sud­denly leave your company, having not enjoyed your society this long time.

Good Sir, tell me, are you resident in Cam­bridge in the Colledge still; I make no question but the Universitie and your merits have preferr'd you to some good Fellowship, Parsonage, or the like good for­tunes.

Alas! good Master Poorest, this is not an age for to bestow Livings and preferments freely, tis now as 'twas said long agoe; Si nihil attuleris ibis Jho­mere foras, I tell you, tis pity to see how Juniors and Dunces take possession of Colledges, and Schollerships and Fellowships are bought and sould as Horses in Smithfield. But I hope you are growne fat in the Coun­trey, for there is not such corruption there as there is among the Muses.

Ile deale plainly with you, I stayd in the U­niversitie of Oxford till I was forc'd to leave it for want of subsistence. I stood for three or foure severall Schol­lerships, and though I was found upon Examination sufficient, yet I doe seriously protest, that one time I was prevented by halfe a Bucke and some good Wine, that was sent up to make the Fellowes merry: and another time a great Ladyes Letter prevail'd against all abilitie of parts, and endowments whatsoever: a third time, the Warden of the Colledge had a poore kins­man, and so he got the major part of the Fellowes on his side, for feare, and flattery, that there were no hopes to swimme against so great a streame; and so I was forc'd to retreat into the Countrey, and there turne first an Usher, and at last was made Curate under a great Prebend, and a double beneficed rich man, where I found promises beyond performances; for my Salary was inferiour by much to his Cooke, or his Coach­man, nay, his Barber had double my stipend; for I was allowed but eight pound per annum, and get my owne victualls cloaths and bookes as I could; and when I tould him the meanes were too little, he said that if I would not, he could have his Cure supplyed by ano­ther [Page 3]rather for lesse then what I had; and so I was yoaked to a small pittance for the space of twelve yeares.

Ist possible there should be such a concur­rence of hard fortunes; It was no otherwise in our Universitie, when I stood for preferment; for at first, a Lawyers sonne had the Schollership, because his Fa­ther had done some businesse for the Colledge at Com­mon Law; and a Doctor of Physickes sonne was pre­ferr'd in my place to a Fellowship, because his Father had cured the Masters wife of a Timpany: and so find­ing all hopes gone there, I went home to my friends, and so within a while after I was made a Minister, and serv'd a Cure.

Where I pray you, is your Charge?

It is in a little poore parish hard by Pinch­backe in Lincolneshire, where the Church-warden is scarce able to give the Minister more then a Barley Bagpudding to his Sundayes dinner. Where are you plac'd?

I serve a Cure hard by Hungerford in Wilt­shire; where my allowance is so short, that was it not more for conscience to be in this my calling, I had ra­ther be a Cobler, and sit and mend old shoes.

I protest, I thinke wee Curates are worse dealt withall by the rich double beneficed men, then the Children of Israel were by the Aegyptians; for though they made them worke hard, yet they allowed them straw and other materialls, and good victualls; for they longed after the flesh-pots of Aegypt, which proves they had them a long time; but we are lorc'd to worke, and yet can get nothing: and yet these should be either Fathers or Brethren to us, but they were enemies to them; and yet they dealt better with them, then these doe with us.

They deale as bad with us as they doe with [Page 4]their flockes. I meane their parishioners, for they starve their soules, and pinch our bodies.

I wonder how these Lip-parsons would doe, should there be but once a generall Consent of all the Curates to forbeare to preach or reade prayers but for one three weekes, or a moneth onely, how they would be forc'd to ride for it, and yet all in vaine; for how can one person supply two places at one time twenty miles distance?

By my consent they should have for every Benefice, a wife, they should have varietie of pleasure, as well as of profit; but withall, I thinke that course would quickly weary their bodies and purses too.

Wives, oh strange, no I would not live to see that day; for if they be so fearefully covetous ha­ving but one, I wonder what they would be, having so many.

Oh Sir, I tell you, they might by this course in time stand in no need of Curates, nor Clarkes nei­ther; for if they could speake as much i'th Church as at home, they might serve the turne; and they are all Masters of Art, to gather up the small tithes and Ea­ster-booke as well as the Clarke.

Nay, now since wee are fallen upon it, Ile tell you, our Parson hath a Living in London as well as here, and his wife is so miserably proud, that both Li­vings will scarce suffice to maintaine her, in so much that shee takes out of the Curates wages, as halfe of eve­ry funerall Sermon, and out of all Burialls, Church­ings, Weddings, Christnings, &c. shee hath halfe du­ties, to buy Lace, Pinnes, Gloves, Fannes, Blackbags, Sattin Petticoates, &c. and towards the maintenance of a puny Servitor to goe before her; nay, shee payes halfe towards the maintenance of a Coach, which shee either gets from her husband, or else from the Curate, by substracting his allowance at the quarter [Page 5]day; and what more is, shee made her Curate in Lon­don to enter into bond privately to her husband, to leave the place at halfe a yeares warning; or else her husband the Parson of the place, would not have gran­ted him a Licence for the place.

Oh strange! ist possible that this old re­mainder of Popery should be yet upheld by our Cler­gie, to have such Pope- Joanes to rule the Church. I have heard say, there are three places in which a Woman never should beare any sway; the Buttery, the Kitchin, and the Church; for Women are too co­vetous by nature to keepe a good house; and too foolish to rule a Church.

Alas! Master Needham, there is a necessitie in this, for I thinke our Parson hath scarce wit enough to doe it; and though he had, yet his wives tongue would put him out of his wits, if he should not let her have her will.

What care I how shee punished him, so that shee did not intrench upon our Liberties, but a­las, shee breakes her husbands backe, and pinches our bellies.

Such a peice of correction hath our Par­son too; for I bought but one new cloake in sixe yeares, and that money, too was given mee in lega­cy by a good parishioner, and shee▪ oh how shee en­vied my felicitie, and inform'd her husband, that I waxt proud; and advised him to get another in my place.

Ist possible! and yet our shee-Regent is not unlike her, for shee frets fearefully to heare that a worthy Gentleman, who lives in the parish, loves me so much; it galls her to the quicke, if the Parishioners out of their loves give me any thing to mend my Sa­lary; oh shee thinkes all's lost that goes beside her hands!

Well, but what does your great Parson with all his wealth? does he keepe good hospitali­tie? or is he charitable to the poore, what's his name? D ^r. Proud.

Alas, nothing lesse; he weares Cassockes of Damaske, and Plush, good Beavers, and silke Stockings; can play well at Tables, or Gleeke, can hunt well, and bowle very skilfully; is deeply ex­perienced in Racy Canary, and can relish a Cup of right Claret; and so passeth the time away: what's your great Overseers name?

D ^r Harding. What goodnesse lodgeth in his Corps?

Little or none, he is worse then yours; for he never comes to visit his Parish, but Horse­leech-like, he suckes them; he loves preying better then praying, and forces his Parish to humilitie by oppressing them; he was a maine Projector for two shillings nine pence ith pound, and lookes like a piece of Reezed Bacon ever since the plot failed; hee's tor­mented with the yellow Jaundies, and a wanton Wife, which are like two incarnate devills, will force him to beleeve a hell before hee comes thi­ther.

It's no great matter, 'tis but just that he that torments others, should taste the same sauce him­selfe.

I'le tell you what his Custome is, when he comes amongst us; he neither prayes nor preaches, the one I thinke he will not, the other I feare he can­not performe.

Oh strange! how came hee then by such Livings?

Easily enough, for its money that makes the Parsons Horse to goe now adayes, for they may say to Parsons, as it hath beene of old said of bookes, Quanti emisti hanc?

I'le assure you, I am afraid he is discon­tent at our Church-government, as well as many o­ther great Parsons; for they force and strictly en­joyne their Curates to reade all divine Service, which they never doe themselves.

It's a strange world, that they should flou­rish and flow in wealth for doing nothing; and the poore Curates that doe all, can get nothing; I'le tell you truly, he has not given his Parish a Sermon this three quarters of a yeare.

I wonder how they can answer the Can­non which enjoynes them to Preach once a moneth.

Pish, what doe you talke to them of the Canons, they who can make new ones, thinke they may slight the old ones; their Canons are like those Lawes, which caught flyes, but could not hold hor­nets or great bees, they are the Curates, who are set to be Canoniers, these endure the heat of the day, of this once or twice a day preaching; alas, they say as the Priests did once to Judas, What's that to us, see you to that.

You speake truth, and I will maintaine it, that our Doctor differs not much from the Wea­thercocke on the Church Steeple; for as it is plac'd highest, sayes nothing, is sounding brasse, or some such mettall, and turnes as the Winde; So he rules all the Parish, seldome preaches, is voyd of charitie, and turnes in his courses every time; for sometimes, he is all for Ceremony, sometimes indifferent, some­times against them; he hath made a terrible combu­stion, where and how to place, the Lords Table; It stood in the Church, anon it must be advanc'd in­to the Quire, then it must bee East and West, and presently after, North and South, covered, unco­vered, rayled, without, rayles, of this fashion, of [Page 8]that, of this wood, of another; may, he himselfe who was the first that altered it, hath now within this moneth or two, altered his opinion, and plac'd it againe in the body of the Church: oh sine Wea­thercocke.

Oh lamentable, that Curated should bee shadowes to such empty shells; but our great Doctor, hee's of another straine, he cares not much, I thinke, whither there was any Table or Communion at all; so that he may receive his Tithes, 'tis not so much to him whither it be an Altar or a Table, so that he can get the gold that comes from it, he is so taken with covetousnesse, that so he may get money, what cares he for either preaching or praying, I tell you, hee threatned a poore Widdow, to put her into the Court, because (as hee was tould) shee had thir­teene egges in a nest, and yet gave him but one for tythe.

Well, our Master is as full of Law, as yours can be of covetousnesse: he threatned one of his Parishioners for sneezing in prayer time, because he hindred his devotion, nay, he made one jaunt it up a foote into the Arches fourescore miles, because he desired to receive the Communion in his feat, my, I protest, that the Parishioners when they heare he is going away, doe usually make him some feast, but it is for joy, that they shall be rid of him till next Sum­mer.

What is yours a good able Schol­ler?

Yes, he is Scholler good enough, but he preaches Christ out of contention.

That's something yet, but alas our Par­son is as bad as one of Saundersons Doctors; for he was made Doctor in Scotland, when our King was there: [...] warrant you, that he knowes not whi­ther [Page 9]Saint Ambrose was a Greeke or a Latine Fa­ther.

Oh miserable!

Nay, he holds Greeke for Heathenish, and Hebrew for Jewish Languages, and Latine he sayes is the Language of Rome, and so holds ignorance best in these: he scarce knowes the difference betwixt Annus and Annas, or betwixt, Anus or Anas: I have heard him reade Opa. tenebr. for Opera tenebrarum, because they were cut a little short, and sayd the Printers deserv'd punishment for curtailing good La­tine: I heard him also decline Senex for an old man, genetivo Senecis, and was confident that he was right too.

Oh such Doctors had need to pray that Popery may come in againe, for then 'twas well when the Priest could reade Latine, whither it was right or wrong.

And yet he is loaden with no lesse then a good Parsonage, a great Vicaridge, two Prebend­ships, and another place worth fourescore pound by the yeare; its impossible sure for him to preach, for telling his moneys.

Any of all those places would suffice you, or my selfe, but alas I Wishers and woulders, you know how the Proverb runnes: these optative Moods are meerly poore and beggarly.

I deale plainly with you, I was offered a place in the Citie of London, but the name of it frighted mee, it was at Saint Peters i [...]h Poore, and I thought, I had enough of poverty already, and so I re­fused it.

Just so was I offered to serve a Cure more North by farre then this is, but the name of it start­led mee, and turned aside all resolution towards it: for it was at a place called Sterveling in Cumber­land.

Nay, Ile tell you more Master Needham; I thought to have gone up to London, had not our Doctors Curate there one Master Hand-little told mee plainly, that most Curates in London liv'd upon Citizens Trenchers, and were it not that they were pittifull and charitable to them, there was no possi­bilitie of subsistence; and that of late it went harder with them, then before, for ever since the Parsons would have so inhanc'd their Revenues, the Citizens have mainely withdrawne their purses, so that now the Curate must live upon his set pittance, or else starve.

Well Master Poorest, I doe not intend to stay longer in the Countrey, for I will waite here in Towne upon hopes a while.

Doe as you please, but you will finde the old Proverb true, London lick penny.

I am resolv'd upon it, though I goe to the three-penny Ordinary; my Reason is, I doe heare say, that there are great store of Clarkes places about London, that are good allowance for Schollers, some worth two hundred pound and upwards per annum, I know some of the Parish Clarkes are worth se­ven or eight thousand pounds; oh their fees come in sleeping and waking: what thinke you of the plott?

I marry such places are worth the while, but how should one catch them?

I'le assure you, 'tis a shame that such Me­chanickes should live in such state as they doe, many of them are as greedy of Funeralls as Vultures of dead Carkasses, and they are most of them in an ill name for exacting most grossely in their fees, hence is it that some of them rule the whole Parish; and Par­son, and all, you shall see them upon festivall dayes, as well cloath'd as the chiefest Citizens; their fingers [Page 11]as full of Rings of Gold, as an old Ale wife that has buried foure or five husbands, and their neckes set as bigge with a curious Ruffe as any the proudest Dons in Spaine, oh what pure rich night caps they weare, and good Beavers; beside all this, they can have their meetings usually in Tavernes of three or foure pounds a sitting, when as poore Curates must not looke into a Red Lettice, under feare of a generall censure.

Oh strange! I thinke it was well if Cu­rates could turne Parish Clarkes, if it be as you say, 'tis the better course by farre.

Come, come, I tell you, wee are bound to looke out for our selves, and I know no more safer course then this, for most of the Clarkes have trades to live upon befide: but I hope their Char­ter will fayle, and then others may come into their places.

What say you Master Needham, how strong are you, will you goe and shew me that pretry ban­quetting house for Curates, I meant the three penny Ordinary, for I can goe no higher.

I, I with all my heart, for I am almost at the same ebbe: but lets hope better; things will not alwayes ride in this Racke.

Sir, I conceive plainly, that wee Curates are but as the stalking horses to the Clarkes, for they get wealth by our labours.

Are you advised of that, you would say so indeed should you but see some of their Bills, so much for Burialls, so much for the kneell, so much for the grave, for the corps more if coffin'd; more yet; if in such a Church, yard; more then that, if in the Church; higher yet, if it be in the Chancell; be­yond all these, if buried with Torches, and Sermon, and mourning, with attendance; but it is put upon the [Page 12]highest straine, if it be a stranger. Besides, for Matri­ages by Banes, or by Licence, for making the Certi­ficate; so for Churchings, and diverse other wayes, and nothing to the Curate all this while.

Well, I conceive it more then are I did, but now let us leave off Discourse, and fall to our Commons, what a pretty Modicum I have here, sure this Ordinary-keeper has beene some Cooke or Scullion in a Colledge, how dextrously the fellow playes the Logician, in dividing the meat▪ 'tis an ex­cellent place sure to learne Abstinence by, I promise you, I will visite this house as my stocke holds out. Its just one degree above Dining with Duke Hum­phery, tis as good as a Preservative against sur­fets.

Oh good Brother, tis as fine a refresh­ment as may be; I hold it wondrous good, for here a man shall be sure to rise from his meat as many o­thers use to sit downe to it, with a stomacke.

I'le tell you one thing, which I had al­most forgotten, I was offered the other day to goe a Voyage to the East Indies, to bee Preacher in a Ship.

Excellent well, oh refuse it not; 'tis farre beyond living ashore for ten pound per annum, I know you will finde brave worthy Merchants, you cannot want, if you undertake it.

I promise you, I had determin'd to have gone in one of his Majesties Ships upon our narrow Seas, but if the voyage be so good, I'le away (God willing) next spring.

I'le tell you, what I intend if I misse of hopes this way here, to sollicite to be a Preacher to a Regiment of Souldiers, if there be any service this next Summer; for wee cannot be lower then now wee are; I would have given you Master Powest, one [Page 13]pint of Wine, but Ultra posse non est esse, as you know.

I am as willing to have done the like to your selfe, not having seene you so long since, but my purse denies abilitie.

I must be gone at one of the clocke, to meet with a Gentleman of the Innes of Court, well good Brother, God blesse us both, and send us better times, and a happy meeting. Farewell.