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         Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
      
       
         
           1663
        
      
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         A66013
         Wing W2148
         ESTC R490125
         99831821
         99831821
         103200
         
           
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             The recantation of a penitent Proteus; or, the changling as it was acted with good applause in St. Maries in Cambridge, and St. Pauls in London, 1663. The first part. To the tune of the second part, and by the same hand. To which is added, The poring doctor, or the gross mistake of a reverend son of the church, in bowing at the name of Judas, at St. Pauls, Novemb. 5. 1663.
             Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             s.n.,
             [London :
             1663]
          
           
             Attributed to Wild by Wing and NUC pre-1956 imprints.
             Imprint from Wing.
             Verse - "OH I am almost mad, 'twould make".
             A satire on Richard Lee who adhered to the Parliament untill 1663 when he recanted his anti-royalist opinions in his 'Cor Humiliatum et contritum'(Wing L888).
             Reproductions of the originals in the Harvard University Library and British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Lee, Richard, 1611-1684. -- Cor Humiliatum et contritum -- Early works to 1800.
           Ballads, English -- 17th century.
           Great Britain -- History -- Restoration, 1660-1688 -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           THE
           RECANTATION
           Of
           a
           Penitent
           PROTEUS
           Or
           the
           CHANGLING
           ,
           AS
           It
           was
           Acted
           with
           good
           Applause
           in
           St.
           Maries
           in
           Cambridge
           ,
           and
           St.
           Pauls
           in
           London
           ,
           1663.
           
        
         
           To
           the
           Tune
           of
           
             Doctor
             Faustus
          
           .
        
         
           
             ATtend
             good
             people
             ,
             lay
             by
             scoffs
             and
             scorns
             ,
          
           
             Let
             Roundheads
             all
             this
             day
             pull
             in
             their
             horns
             ,
          
           
             But
             let
             Conformists
             and
             brave
             Caviliers
          
           
             Unto
             my
             doleful
             Tone
             prick
             up
             their
             Ears
             .
          
           
             Take
             from
             my
             neck
             this
             Robe
             ,
             a
             Rope's
             more
             fit
             ,
          
           
             And
             turn
             the
             Surplice
             to
             a
             Penance-Sheet
             ,
          
           
             This
             Pulpit
             is
             too
             good
             to
             act
             my
             part
             ,
          
           
             More
             fit
             to
             preach
             at
             Tyburn
             in
             a
             Cart
             :
          
           
             There
             I
             deserv'd
             t'
             have
             taken
             my
             degree
             ,
          
           
             And
             Doctor
             Dun
             should
             have
             presented
             me
             ,
          
           
             There
             with
             an
             hempen
             -
             hood
             I
             should
             be
             sped
             ,
          
           
             And
             his
             
               three-cornered
               Cap
            
             should
             crown
             my
             head
             .
          
           
             Here
             I
             am
             come
             to
             hold
             up
             guilty
             hand
             ,
          
           
             And
             of
             the
             
               Beast
               to
               give
               my self
               the
               Brand
               ,
            
          
           
             Here
             by
             confessing
             I
             have
             been
             i'
             th
             wrong
             ,
          
           
             I
             come
             to
             bore
             my self
             through
             my
             own
             Tongue
             .
          
           
             In
             learning
             my
             poor
             Parents
             brought
             up
             me
             ,
          
           
             And
             sent
             me
             to
             the
             Universitie
             ,
          
           
             There
             I
             soon
             found
             bowing
             the
             was
             to
             rise
             :
          
           
             And
             th'
             only
             Logick
             was
             the
             Fall'cies
             .
          
           
             In
             stead
             of
             
               Aristo●les
               Organon
            
             ,
          
           
             Anthens
             and
             Organs
             I
             did
             study
             on
             ,
          
           
             If
             I
             could
             play
             on
             them
             ,
             I
             soon
             did
             find
             ,
          
           
             I
             rightly
             had
             p●eferment
             in
             the
             Wind
             ,
          
           
             I
             followed
             that
             hot
             sent
             without
             controul
             ,
          
           
             I
             bow'd
             my
             body
             ,
             and
             I
             sung
             
               Fa
               Sol
            
             ;
          
           
             I
             cozen'd
             Doctor
             Couzens
             ,
             and
             e're
             long
          
           
             A
             Fellowship
             obtained
             
               For
               a
               Song
            
             .
          
           
             Then
             by
             degrees
             I
             clim'd
             until
             I
             got
          
           
             Good
             friends
             ,
             good
             Cloths
             ,
             good
             Commons
             ,
             and
             what
             not
          
           
             I
             got
             so
             long
             ,
             until
             at
             length
             I
             got
          
           
             
               A
               Wench
               with
               Child
            
             ,
             and
             then
             I
             got
             a
             Blot
             .
          
           
             Before
             the
             Consistorie
             I
             was
             try'd
             ,
          
           
             Where
             like
             a
             Villaine
             I
             both
             swore
             and
             ly'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             from
             the
             Whore
             I
             made
             ,
             I
             was
             made
             free
             ,
          
           
             By
             purging
             of
             my self
             incontinent
             LEE
             .
          
           
             B●t
             as
             I
             scorn'd
             to
             Father
             mine
             one
             Brat
             ,
          
           
             'T
             was
             done
             to
             me
             as
             I
             had
             done
             with
             That
             .
          
           
             The
             Doctors
             all
             when
             a
             Doctor
             I
             would
             be
             ,
          
           
             As
             a
             
               base
               Son
            
             ,
             refus'd
             to
             Father
             me
             ,
          
           
             With
             much
             adoe
             ,
             at
             length
             by
             art
             and
             cunning
             ,
          
           
             My
             Tears
             and
             Vows
             prevail'd
             with
             
               Peter
               Gunning
            
             ,
          
           
             Me
             to
             adopt
             and
             for
             his
             love
             and
             care
             ,
          
           
             I
             will
             devout
             my self
             to
             
               Peter's
               Chaire
            
             .
          
           
             Cambridge
             I
             left
             with
             greif
             and
             great
             disgrace
             ,
          
           
             To
             seek
             my
             fortune
             in
             some
             other
             place
             ;
          
           
             And
             that
             I
             might
             the
             better
             save
             my
             stake
             ▪
          
           
             I
             
               took
               an
               Order
            
             and
             did
             
               Orders
               take
            
             .
          
           
             Amongst
             Conformists
             I
             my self
             did
             list
          
           
             A
             
               Son
               o'
               th
               Church
            
             as
             good
             as
             ever
             pi●t
             .
          
           
             But
             though
             I
             bow'd
             ,
             and
             cring'd
             ,
             and
             crost
             and
             all
             ,
          
           
             I
             only
             got
             a
             Vicaridge
             very
             small
             .
          
           
             E're
             I
             was
             warm
             (
             and
             warm
             I
             ne're
             had
             been
          
           
             In
             such
             a
             starved
             hole
             as
             I
             was
             in
             )
          
           
             A
             fire
             upon
             the
             Church
             and
             Kingdom
             came
             ;
          
           
             Which
             I
             strait
             help't
             to
             blow
             into
             a
             flame
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Second
             Part.
             
          
           
             MY
             Conscience
             first
             like
             
               Balaams
               Ass
            
             ,
             was
             shie
             ,
          
           
             Boggled
             ,
             and
             winc'd
             ,
             which
             when
             I
             did
             espie
             ;
          
           
             I
             cudgel'd
             her
             ,
             and
             spur'd
             her
             on
             each
             side
             ,
          
           
             Until
             the
             Jade
             her
             paces
             all
             could
             ride
             .
          
           
             When
             first
             I
             mounted
             on
             her
             tender
             Back
          
           
             She
             would
             not
             leave
             the
             Protestant
             dull
             Rack
             .
          
           
             Till
             in
             her
             Mouth
             the
             
               Covenant
               Bitte
            
             I
             got
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             her
             learn
             the
             
               Presbyterian
               Trot.
            
          
           
             'T
             was
             an
             
               hard
               T●ot
            
             ,
             and
             freted
             her
             (
             alas
          
           
             '
             T●e
             
               ●ndeo●nd●●
               Amble
            
             easier
             was
             ,
          
           
             I●●●ght
             her
             that
             ,
             and
             out
             of
             that
             to
             fall
          
           
             To
             the
             ●●ntroy
             of
             Prelaticall
             .
          
           
             I
             rode
             her
             once
             to
             Rumford
             with
             a
             pack
          
           
             Of
             Arguments
             for
             Covenant
             on
             her
             back
             .
          
           
             That
             Journey
             she
             perform'd
             at
             such
             a
             rate
          
           
             The
             Committee
             gave
             me
             a
             rich
             
               peice
               of
               Plate
            
             .
          
           
             From
             Hatfield
             to
             St.
             Albans
             I
             did
             ride
             ,
          
           
             The
             Army
             cal'd
             for
             me
             to
             be
             their
             Guide
             ,
          
           
             There
             I
             so
             spur'd
             her
             that
             I
             made
             her
             fling
          
           
             Not
             only
             dirt
             but
             blood
             upon
             my
             King.
          
           
             When
             Cromwell
             turn'd
             his
             Masters
             out
             by
             force
             ;
          
           
             I
             made
             the
             Beast
             draw
             like
             a
             
               Brewers
               horse
            
             ,
          
           
             Under
             the
             Rump
             I
             made
             her
             were
             a
             Crooper
             ,
          
           
             And
             under
             Lambert
             she
             became
             a
             Trooper
             .
          
           
             When
             Noble
             Monk
             the
             King
             did
             home
             conveigh
             ,
          
           
             Shee
             (
             like
             
               Darius
               steed
            
             began
             to
             Neigh.
          
           
             I
             taught
             her
             since
             to
             
               Organ
               Pipes
            
             to
             Prance
             ,
          
           
             As
             Bankes
             his
             Horse
             could
             to
             a
             fiddle
             dance
             ,
          
           
             Now
             with
             a
             Snaffle
             or
             a
             
               Twyned
               Thred
            
          
           
             To
             any
             Government
             shee
             'l
             
               turn
               her
               head
            
          
           
             I
             have
             so
             broke
             her
             she
             doth
             never
             start
             ,
          
           
             And
             that
             's
             the
             meaning
             of
             my
             
               broken
               heart
            
             .
          
           
             I
             have
             found
             out
             a
             cunning
             way
             with
             ease
          
           
             To
             make
             her
             
               cast
               her
               Coat
            
             when
             e're
             I
             please
             ;
          
           
             And
             if
             at
             Rack
             and
             Manger
             she
             may
             be
             ,
          
           
             Her
             
               Colts
               Tooth
            
             Shee
             will
             keep
             most
             wanton-LEE
             .
          
           
             I
             le
             change
             as
             often
             as
             the
             Man
             i'
             th
             Moon
             ;
          
           
             His
             frequent
             Changing
             makes
             him
             rise
             so
             soon
             ,
          
           
             To
             eat
             
               Church
               Plum-broth
            
             e're
             it
             all
             be
             gone
             ,
          
           
             I
             'le
             have
             the
             ,
             Devils
             spoon
             but
             I
             le
             have
             One.
          
           
             For
             many
             years
             my
             Tongue
             did
             
               lick
               the
               Rump
            
             ;
          
           
             But
             when
             I
             saw
             a
             King
             was
             turn
             up
             Trump
             ,
          
           
             I
             did
             resolve
             still
             in
             my
             hand
             to
             have
          
           
             One
             
               winning
               Card
            
             ,
             although
             't
             were
             but
             a
             Knave
             .
          
           
             If
             the
             
               great
               Turk
            
             to
             England
             come
             ,
             I
             can
          
           
             Make
             Gospel
             truckle
             to
             the
             Alchoran
             ;
          
           
             And
             if
             their
             
               Turkish
               Saboaths
            
             should
             take
             place
             .
          
           
             I
             have
             in
             readiness
             my
             
               Friday
               Face
            
             .
          
           
             If
             lockt
             in
             Iron
             Chest
             (
             as
             we
             are
             told
             )
          
           
             A
             Loadstone
             their
             great
             Mahomet
             can
             hold
             :
          
           
             The
             Loadstone
             of
             preferment
             (
             I
             presage
             )
          
           
             To
             Mahomet
             may
             
               draw
               this
               Iron
               Age.
            
          
           
             The
             Congregation
             way
             best
             pleas'd
             my
             mind
             ;
          
           
             There
             were
             most
             Shee
             s
             ,
             and
             they
             most
             free
             and
             kind
             .
          
           
             By
             Chamber
             practise
             I
             did
             better
             thrive
          
           
             Then
             all
             my
             livings
             though
             I
             
               Skimmed
               five
            
             .
          
           
             Mine
             eyes
             are
             open
             now
             my
             sins
             to
             see
             ,
          
           
             With
             tears
             I
             cry
             
               Good
               people
               pardon
               me
            
             ,
          
           
             My
             Reverend
             Fathers
             pardon
             I
             do
             crave
             ,
          
           
             And
             hope
             my
             
               Mothers
               blessing
            
             yet
             to
             have
             .
          
           
             My
             Cambridge
             sins
             ,
             my
             Bugden
             sins
             are
             vile
             ,
          
           
             My
             Essex
             sins
             ,
             my
             sins
             in
             Ely-Isle
             ,
          
           
             My
             Leicester
             sins
             ,
             my
             Hatfield
             sins
             are
             many
             ,
          
           
             But
             my
             St.
             Albans
             sins
             more
             red
             then
             any
             .
          
           
             To
             CHARLES
             the
             first
             I
             was
             a
             bloudy
             Foe
             ,
          
           
             I
             wish
             I
             do
             not
             serve
             the
             second
             so
             ,
          
           
             The
             onely
             way
             to
             make
             me
             leave
             that
             trick
             ,
          
           
             Is
             to
             bestow
             on
             me
             a
             Bishoprick
          
           
             This
             is
             St
             Andrews
             Eve
             and
             for
             his
             sake
          
           
             A
             Bishoprick
             in
             Scotland
             I
             could
             take
             ;
          
           
             And
             though
             a
             Metropolitan
             there
             be
             ;
          
           
             I
             'de
             be
             as
             Sharpe
             and
             full
             as
             Arch
             as
             he
             .
          
           
             Now
             may
             this
             Sermon
             never
             be
             forgot
             ,
          
           
             Let
             others
             call
             't
             a
             Sermon
             ,
             I
             a
             Plot
             ,
          
           
             A
             Plot
             that
             takes
             if
             it
             believed
             be
             ,
          
           
             If
             not
             I
             shall
             repent
             
               unfeigned
               LEE
            
          
           
             I
             must
             desire
             the
             Crack-fart
             of
             the
             Nation
             ,
          
           
             With
             Reverence
             to
             
               let
               fly
            
             this
             Recantation
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Names
             ty'd
             taile
             to
             taile
             make
             a
             sweet
             Change
          
           
             Mine
             onely
             is
             
               Stange
               Lee
            
             ,
             and
             his
             Le-Strange
             .
          
           
             FINIS
             .
          
        
      
    
     
  

