THE Ass' Complaint against Balaam; Or the Cry of the COUNTRY AGAINST Ignorant and Scandalous Ministers.  
To the Reverend Bishops.  

YE mitred Members of the House of Peers,  
The King's Churchwardens, and Gods Overseers,  
Fathers in Christ, we your poor Children cry  
Oh give us Bread of Life, or else we die.   

For we are burdened with our old Sir john's,  
Who when we ask for Bread do give us stones;  
And only cant a Homily or two,  
Which Daws and Parrots may be taught to do;  
Drunkards Cannonicall, Unhallowed Bears,  
That name God oftener in their oaths then Prayers.   

Into what darkness will our Church be hurled  
If such as these be called The light o'th' World?  
These that have nought to prove themselves devout  
Save only this, That Cromwell turned them out.   

Mistake us not, we do not mean those loyal  
And learned souls, who in the fiery trial  
Suffered for King and conscience sake, let such  
Have double honour, we shall ne'er think much;   

But this our tender conscience disapproves,  
That Ravens should return as well as Doves;  
And croak in Pulpits once again to bring  
A second Judgement on our Church and King.   

Though England doth not fear another loss,  
'Cause God hath burned his Rods at Charing cross;  
Yet Clergy sins may call him to the Door  
Even him who whipped and scourged them out before.   

Oh therefore ye that read the sacred Laws  
Eject their Persons, and disown their cause:  
God, and the King have both condemud this crew,  
Then let them not be patronised by you.   

'Tis not their Cassocks, not their Surplices  
We quarrel at, there is no hurt in these;  
We owh their Decency, yet every Fool  
Cannot be called a Monk that wears a Cowle;  
Were grace, and learning wanting (by your leaves)  
We would not pin our faith on your Lawn sleeves;  
'Tis Aaron's breastplate, and those sacred words  
Become a Churchman best, THAT THAT my Lords  
Which pious Baxter makes his livery,  
Would all our Curates were but such as he!   

Pardon my Lords, we do not make this stir  
To vindicate the factious Presbyter;  
We hate his ways, and equally disown  
The zealous Rebel, as the Idle Drone;  
And beg as oft to be delivered from  
The Kirk of Scotland, as the Sea of Rome;  
We pray for Bishops too, Oh may ye stand  
To heal the sad distractions of the Land;  
Then give us Priests loyal and painful too,  
To give to Caefar, and to us our due.   

God save King Charles our Christian faiths Defender,  
And bring Religion to its wont Splendour.    

ADVERTISEMENT.  
Loyal and Orthodox Reader, Judge charitably, I am ne'ther Presbyterian, nor Fanatic, but as true a Son of the Church of England as thyself; for thy further satisfaction, I shall (God willing) present thee with an other paper, to clear my honesrintention in this.  Lewis Griffin.