THE DEPUTIES GHOST: OR An APPARITION to the Lord of Canterbury in the Tower. with his complaint unto the wall after the Ghosts departure. BEING An acrostic anagram of his Name.  
 
WIthout corruption or that corrupted Cave,  
From out that body from the head divided,  
From mortal life, from death, and from the grave,  
And from the Elysian by immortals guided,  
Into the world I come for to reprove thee;  
Because the World reports that I do love thee.  
Proud Prelate, dost thou startle at a shade?  
What substance have I to make thee afraid,  
Or art thou fearful of thy sociat's Ghost,  
A voice, a shade, or fancy at the most?  
Surely your Grace cannot so soon be daunted;  
'Tis not the first time we have been acquainted.  
Why! I am Wentworth, canst thou not abide me?  
Nay surely than I must begin to chide thee.  
Oh would i'd been as loathsome in thine eye,  
When first to Honour I was raised so high?  
Or had I never thy confederate been,  
The tree that's fallen might still have flourished green:  
For if i'd never to thy ways consented,  
Untimely death had surely been prevented;  
Nor had mine Honours at that day been stained,  
If I such wicked courses had refrained:  
Then had my wife her husband still enjoyed,  
Nor had my children's father been destroyed,  
Whose life was lately ta'en away by force  
That longer might have lived by nature's course,  
And yet to die I truly had deserved,  
Because with thee, I from the truth had swarved:  
My Lord, you know, it is a traitorous part,  
That any man should seek for to subvert  
The fundamental laws and Government,  
Confirmed by the course of Parliament:  
And yet my Lord you formerly could say,  
You'd make the proudest Subject to give way  
To what you list contrary to the Law,  
As if you'd make the kingdom stand in awe  
Of your great power, such was your foul ambition  
To pull down truth and set up superstition,  
And held the power of Prelacy more great  
Than his that ruleth in the royal seat:  
Nay more than that, with threatenings interrupted  
The judges, that their judgements were corrupted;  
Yet now my Lord, the Law will not forbear you,  
Since neither judge, nor justice needs to fear you.  
But stay my Lord, what mean you thus to tremble?  
Can you not still, with God and man dissemble;  
They went beyond a Canterbury pace,  
That ran so fast to overtake your Grace,  
And yet you see how sudden alterations,  
Move mighty men with Melancholy passions,  
I know my Lord when you was in your prime,  
You'd not have kept your study half this time:  
Oh no my Lord, you than enjoyed your pleasure,  
Your betters then would stand & wait your leisure,  
The greater sort of persons seemed to fear you,  
The poor men durst scarce speak, nor come too ne'er you,  
 
But now you see the matter's altered quite,  
They bid you show the ut most of your spite,  
And yet my Lord it is not many years,  
They durst to use such speeches for their ears:  
My Lord as I unseen past through the streets,  
I see the multitudes of paper sheets,  
Sent from the press, and thus they cry them still,  
Come buy a book concerning little Will:  
In truth, my Lord, if you your freedom had,  
This were enough to make you run stark mad,  
Therefore I at your grace do marvel much,  
Your love unto the World it should be such,  
But rather seek for to be separated  
From such a world, where you are so much hated:  
In any place where men abroad do walk,  
When dies the Bishop? thus they use to talk;  
All which my Lord would be but 9 days' wonder,  
If once your head and shoulders were asunder:  
Alas my Lord why are you loath to die?  
You have ossended full as much as I.  
What fear you meeting Bensteads' Ghost in Hell?  
Why? he's in Heaven, for aught that you can tell,  
And if he be in Heaven, yet never fear,  
It may be long ere he do meet you there,  
And yet me thinks you did but ill in that,  
To hang the man, and knew not well for what:  
Hanged him said I? nay hang and draw and quarter,  
And yet my Lord, you think to die a Martyr;  
On London bridge you may behold a Head,  
How much is't worse than yours, when once you're dead,  
And others more my Lord you put in danger,  
who feared the rack, more than they did the manger,  
And thus my Lord, you see how times can alter,  
You thought o'th' rack, but dreamed not of the halter:  
Which to yourself, I leave you now alone,  
Unto the wall speak thus, when I am gone.  

An anagram made on the name of William Laud●  
Wall vild am I, Or Wall I am vild.  
Wall if thou knew'st thy prisoner were so base,  
And hadst but sense to understand aright,  
Long should I not have lived in this place,  
Lime, wood, & stone would all against me fight,  
If that I had my just deserved doom,  
Archbishop once might bid adieu to Rome,  
Much mischief in the kingdom I have wrought,  
Using the means to make my name more great,  
Into the land I would have Popery brought,  
Lo here's the downfall of St. Peter's seat,  
Down with it, down, this is the people's cry,  
I did offend, and therefore I must die.  
FINIS.    

Printed in the year, of our Prelates fear, 1641.