FAT BISHOP

For great, I grant you, but greatly holy, There the sold alters fat Cathedral bodies, Have very often lean, little souls, Much Like the Lady in the Lobstars head, A great deal of shell and garbage of all colours, But for the pure partly, that should take wings and mount That's at last gasp, as if a man should gape, And from a huge bulk let forth a butterfly, Likethose big-bellied mountains, which the Poet Delivers, that are brought to bed with men flesh, Are my book Printed pawn, my last invictiues against Against the blacke-house? Fetch me a few, which I will instantly Distribute amongst the White-house. 'Tis a most Lordly life to rail at ease, See, eat, and drink upon the fat of one Kingdom; And rail upon and other with the juice on't: I have writ this book out of the strength and marrow Of six and thirty dishes at a meal: But most on't out of cullishe of Cock sparrows, 'Twill stick and glew the faster to the adversary, 'Twill slit the root of their most Calvish cause, And yet I eat but little butchers meat In the conception: Of all things I commend the White-house best, For plenty and variety of victuals: When I was one of the blacke-house professed, My flesh fell half a Cubit, time to revolt, When my own ribs revolted; but to say truth, I have no preferment yet, that's suitable To the greatness of my person and my parts: I grant I live at ease, for I am made The Master of the beds, the long acre of beds: But there's no Marie-gold, that shuts and opens, Flower gentlee Venis borth, apples of love, Pinks, Hyanths, Honey-suckles, Daffa-down-dillies, There was a time I'ld much more brab then beds, Now I've more beds, then drabs: Yet there's no eminent trader deals in whole-sayle; But she and I have clap a barging up, Let in at watergate, for which I have racked My tenants purse-strings, that then'ue twang'd again: Yonder black Knight, the Fistula of Europe, Enter b. B. with b. Knight. Whose disease once I undertook to cure, With a high Holborne halter, when he last Vouchsafed to peep into my privileged lodgings He saw good store of plate, and rich hangings: He knew I brought none to the White-house with me, I have not lost the use of my profession, Since I turned White-house bishop: The stronger sting it shoots into the blood Of the black adversary, I'm ashamed now, I was theirs ever, what a Lump was I? When I was led in ignorance and blindness? I must confess I've all my life time played The Fool, till now. Ther's my recantation in the last leaf. Were't Like a Ciceronian in pure Latain. The black Knight? I must look to play then. Our princely kinsman says thou? we accept m: Pray keep your side and distance, I am chary Of my Episcopal person: I know the Knights walk in this Game too well, He may slip over me, and where am I then? This was the chair of ease I ever aimed at, I'll make a bonfire of my books immediately All, that are left against that side isle sacrifice: Pack up my plate and goods, and steal away By night at Watergate: It is but penning And other recantation, and in venting Two or three bitter books against the white house, And then I'm atother side again, As firm as ere I was, as fat, and flourishing: Black Knight, expect a wonder ere't belong, Thou shalt see me one of the blacke-house. Forbear, or I shall melt i'the place I stand, And let forth a fat Bishop in sad syrup: Suffice I am yours, when they least dream on't, Ambitious fooder, power and riches draws me, When I smell honour that's the lock of hay, That led me through the world's field every way. Ex. B. Knight. Here's a sweet pang to propagate belief on, Like the foundation of a Chapel laid Upon a quagmire, I may number him now Amongst my inferior policies, and not shame em; But let me a little solace my designs With the remembrance of some brave ones passed, To cherish the futerrity of project, Whose motion must be restless till that great work, Called the possession of the world be ours: Was it not procured a gallant fleet, From the white Kingdom to secure our coasts, Gainst infidel Pirates, under pretext Of more necessities expedition, Who made the Jails fly open (without miracle) And let the Locusts out, those dangerous flies. Whose properti's to burn corn without touching The Heretic Granaries, feel it to this minute; And now they'ue God amongst the country Corpse, They stick so fast to the converted ears, The loudest tempest that authority rouses, Will hardly shake they off, they have their dens In Ladies coaches, their safe groves and fens: Nay they were followed and found out by the sent Palm oil will make a Pursuivant relent: Whose policy was it to put a silenced muzle, On all the barking tong-men of the time: Made pictures that were enough before, Poor sufferers in that politic restraint? My light spleen skips, and shakes my ribs to think on't While our drift walked uncensured, but in thought A whifle or a whisper, would be questioned, In the most fortunate Angle in the World, The Court has held the City by thy Horns, While I have milked her: I have God good soups too From Countries for their liberties, From some for their most vainly hoped for preferments. High offices, in the, I should no live But for this Mellacrim, this mirth Manna, Enter black Knights pawn. My pawn? how now, the new's. Is there so much amazement spent on him That's but half black, there might be hope of that man But how will this house wonder, if I stand forth And show a whole one, instantly discover One that's all black, where ther's no hope at all. Look no farther then, Bear witness all the house I am the man, And turn my self into the black house freely, I am of this side now. Next news you hear, expect my books against you, Printed at Doway, Brussels, or Spallato. Yes, rail on, I'll reach you in my writings when I'm gone. Now isle discover all the white house to you. Here's Taxa Penitentiaris Knight, The book of general pardons, of all prizes: I have been searching for his sin this half hour, And cannot light upon it. Turn over the sheet, you shall find adultery And other trivial sins. You have read the story of that monster (sir) That God his daughter, sister & wife, of his own mother They may thank me for that, 'twas ninteene, Before I came, I have mitigated many of the sums. Ther's few on's very forward (sir) I those are ancient notes. True (sir) that was paid. You must depart, you see there is no president, Of any price or pardon for that fact. True, there is instance: Were you to kill him I'de pardon you: Ther's president for that, and price set down, But none for Gelding. And for their Sanctimonius Queen's surprisal, In that State-puzell, and distracted hurry, Trust my Arch subtlety with. 'Tis in vain to stir, remove which way you can: I take you now, this is the time we have hoped for, Queen you must down. The black Kings blood burns for thy prostitution, And nothing but the spring of thy chased virtue Can cool his inflammation: instantly He die upon a pleurisy of Luxury, If he deflower thee not. The devils in't, I'm taken by a Ringdove: Where stood this Bishop all this while, that I saw him not? The Bag had needs be found, or it goes to wrack, Sin and my weight will make a strong one crack. The white House has given us the bag (I thank em.) Thou Male-part Pawn, The Bishop must have room, he will have room, And room to lie at pleasure. I am not easily moved, when I'm once set, I scorn to stir for any King on earth. Indeed a Queen may make a Bishop stir. He'll pick a hold in the bag, and get out shortly: I'm sure to be the last man that creeps out; And thats the misery of greatness ever. Crowd in all you can, The Bishop will be still uppermost man Maugre King, Queen, or Politician. Pawn. I Know my pen draws blood of the black house, Ther's never a book I writ but their cause bleeds, It has lost many and ounce of reputation, Since I came to this side, I deep in, And leave the Orifex gushing were I come: But where's my advancement all this while I have God, I'de have some round preferment, corpulent dignity That bears some breath and compass in the gulf on't, I am persuaded that this flesh would fit The biggest chair Ecclesiastical, If it were put to trial, to be made Master of and Hospital, Is but a kind of disease-bred honour: Or dream of the poor alms Knights that wear badges Ther's but two lazy beggarly preferments, In the white Kingdom, and I've God em both, My merit does begin to be cropsick For want of other Titles. Lass, they were all conveyed Last night by watergate, to a Tailors house: A friend of Black house.