Mercurius Ecclesiasticus: OR, DOCTOR COZENS HIS VISITATION At Warrington in Lancashire, with divers PRESENTMENTS and CENSVRES therein passed.
TOGETHER With a true Story of the READER of LIVERPOOLE his twice over wronged Breeches, brought before the said Doctor there.
—nec scombros metuentia carmina—
⟨Jan: 7 th 1644⟩ Printed in the yeer 1645.
Doctor COSENS his Visitation at Warington in Lancashire: with a true story of the Reader of Liverpoole his double-wronged Breeches brought before him there.
THE plunder-Church yeer 'twas, whence
Yorke
Sent forth those Harpies of her Kirke
Esdall, Wickam, and
Cozens:
The last was he that then fate on
The skorners Bench at Warington,
to sell sinne by the dozens.
Had you but heard this Dragon roare
So farre 'bove that of
Eglimore,
or seene this rampant Priest
Ttample the Puritan, you wou'd
Have sworne him one of th'very brood
come out o'the mouth o'th' Beast:
In the first place, his long Oration
Was spent o'th' Kings late Declaration,
that none should dare to Preach
[Page 2] Against
Arminian points, but that
They should presse Gospell truths, whence flat
he did enjoyne to teach.
All mens salvation that would will
Graces receipt: he shewd the ill
of Lectures, Repetitions,
Afternoone Sermons, and the blame
Of other forme then
Whats your Name,
or on that, Expositions.
All unbookd prayers he could not see,
To be ought else but blasphemy,
what? on the spirit to father
An abortive prayer, whereunto
The Canon was not Mid-wife, no
nor Holy Church the mother?
The Doctor the presentments all,
With fury tore in peeces small,
that brought in
omnia bene;
Charg'd them to make a new report,
The reason was unto the Court,
they were not wotth a penny.
In the presentments that were brought,
One was so sawcy, or ill taught,
at the Altar for to leane;
From the Church-yard hedge was one had pluk't
A twig to still her child that suck'd,
ah, sacrilegious Queane.
A Butcher his unhallowed Calfe
To the Church-yard stile had tyed safe,
all must their pennance doe;
Another for adultery
Escap'd much better, for that he
rapt out an oth or two.
A rich-nos'd Host appear'd being drunke,
He wisht all Puritans were sunke
in their
New-England passage;
The Doctor did conclude the man,
No Church imbroyling Puritan,
he knew it by his visage.
And so he scap'd, paying his fees,
So did not he, but lost a Fleece
with's Neighbour that durst pray;
A Minister call'd
Sabath Clerke
The Doctor re-baptiz'd, took's
marke,
and call'd him
Saturday.
A Reader 'mong the rest he spyed,
Blew were his Breeches which the tyde
o'the Doctors rage did sell;
He stampt and star'd, and grew starke mad
The adventure dyre and story sad,
I meane you (here) to tell
It was a four-pound right Sir
John,
That Service read at
L'erpoole Towne,
His name was
John Wain-wright;
[Page 4] Had that been too his occupation,
It had been better for the Nation
(with many a such like Wight.)
His Master-piece and highest praise,
'Twas bidding right the Holy-dayes
and chanting out procession;
Kersning, burying, marrying faire,
Giving good morrow to Master Mayor,
tho' in the midst o'th Lesson.
He passed for a quiet soule,
And no mans foe, did not controule
his parish'ners in their sports;
The Pipers faithfull advocate,
And Beare-heards too, had no mans hate,
was free to all resorts.
Withall he deerly lov'd a cup,
And of it often deep would sup,
and then as oft besh— him;
And now his thoughts were all upon
The approaching Visitation,
and how there to acquit him.
Fraught with his Orders, License, Fees,
His Coat Canonicall (tho' freeze)
a Church-Warden went too,
Who with a Wallet was so loaden,
Before that many a mile they'd troden,
the Priest he gan to sue.
To beare the box of the presentments,
So on they went without resentments
to
Ranehill till they came,
An Ale
[...]house (there) stood by the way
Which soone invited them to stay,
the Ale was of good fame.
They call'd so oft for to'ther cup,
That all the Ale was quite drunk up,
save what untun'd remain'd;
To that they fell, the night grew on,
Their thoughts were quench'd towards
Warrington,
the Priests breech was ill staind.
Both soundly drunke, to bed they'l goe,
The Roomes o'th' house were ordered so,
that the good wife was faine
In the same roome to coole her grout
Where they both lay (sans feare or doubt)
the chance was Master
Waine,
Right laid his wronged breeches doewn
Upon the very self-same Cowme,
wherein the working Ale was;
Doubtlesse he took it seeing th'froth
For a round table and white cloth,
how'ere, it came to passe
The Breeches fitter much for
Lee,
Grew steep'd in Ale for company,
and with the owner drunk,
[Page 6] So weighty were the boxes, fees,
Sinfull presentments, that to th' Lees,
no mervaile if they sunke.
The Ale in triumph o're such spoyles,
Swell'd high and mantl'd, but those broyles
'tad quickly againe a laid;
No mervaile, now 'twas impossession
Without abatement, strife or question
of the reckning not yet paid.
Besides, hereby the streame i'th' breech
Returnd unto its spring, by which
it was repaird againe,
And the presentments being drownd,
That to it a foe might have been found
it needed not complaine.
The Curate and the Warden both
Steept as they were in Barly broth,
felt neither ach nor stitches,
They'd tune a medicine for the fleas,
Feard not the next dayes hard release,
but lay still as the Breeches.
The morning comes, they both arise,
Say o're the Creed and rub their eyes,
meane quickly to be packing,
The Reader ready to put on
His Breeches, but he found anon
(woe worth him) they were lacking
He sought them all the roome about
In every place save in the Grout;
who would them there suppose?
The Ale lookt just as did o're night,
Undrunk, no secrets to the light
would it all disclose.
The Constable was sent for soone,
The Priest cryed out he was undone,
the fees, presentments lost;
Orders, License, all were gone,
Which many a yeere h' had liv'd upon,
and many a groat had cost.
He charg'd the Host t' have stolne them all,
It booted not to whine or braule,
at length it was concluded,
Rather then not to make apparance,
The Reader should put on
Hodge Laurence
his Breeches tho' th' were blew-died.
Laurence the presentments gone,
Lik'd not t' appeare at
Warrington,
but was content to stay
In soccage for the shot unpaid,
While the Curate with his breech arrayed
would beare the heat o' th' day.
Which prov'd not small I can assure yee,
For why? the Doctor grew in fury,
at the strange Breeches hew;
[Page 8] He ask'd what mot'ly gull it was
That there did dare to shew his face,
in cloths thus black and blew.
Whether holy Orders h' had tane?
Where he officiated? what lane
or hedge-priest he might be?
The silly man being quite confounded
With shame and horrour, all surrounded
fell downe upon his knee:
Told him the whole, how h' came out
Cloth'd all in black from head to foot,
but had been rob'd, (alas)
His Breeches, Orders, Fees were gone,
Presentments too, not he alone
but th' Court a looser was.
When of this sacrilegious charge,
The Doctor was inform'd at large,
he vow'd that he would make
The Host a most example dread
of justice, as had ever head
or hand in plot so black.
Immediately he sent a Somner:
The Catchpole was no sooner come neere
to the suspected place,
But in the turning of her Grout,
The Wife had found the Breeches out,
howbeit, in wofull case.
But when the whole was fully knowne,
And 'bout the Towne in rumour blowne,
the Doctor did assay,
The Stinking stirre to have referr'd,
By him and's fellowes to be heard,
and cleanly made away.
The Host and Hostesse they cryed, no,
But to the common Law they'd goe,
at
Derby Court they'd try it:
Two Actions they had anent him,
Whereby they'd make him to repent him,
and h' should dearly buy it.
One was of slander of their housing,
Th' other 'twas the brewing loosing;
whereto the Priest did plead.
The house it had (with many a curse)
Of many a guest oft pickt the purse
by its large reckonings made.
And for the Ale he prov'd it cleere,
They'd sold it off as soone, and deare
as any other brewing;
And that it was more strong and stale
And much the more canonicall,
by th' aforesaid Breeches stewings.
This doubled suit was often traversed,
Renew'd againe, and againe reversed,
untill to one o'th Quorum,
[Page 10] It was referred as Umpire sage
With other two,
Two belonging to the Court.
it to asswage,
will Oufald and
John Orum.
Who ended it with much adoe,
After both sides began to rue.
the Lawyers many Quiblets,
By turning (as the Proverb sayes)
The Hares head (as in such like frayes)
unto the Wild-goose Giblets.
FINIS.