LAMBETH FAIR Wherein you have all the Bishop's Trinkets set to sell.  
Death close mine eyes with thy eternal doom,  
Before this Fair be thus proclaimed at Rome.  
O mìhi praeteritos referet si Jupiter annos.  
Qualis eram—  
Printed at London by RY. ET. Anno Dom. 1641.   

To the Reader.  

THe rare poetic wits of these our times,  
Are daily chanting curious Hymns and Rhymes.  
Whose lines perfumed, smell sweet as any Rope,  
For English Bishops, or the Romish Pope.  
But mine smell not so strong for I am sorry,  
Our Bishops should change Caps with Doctor story.  
Then Reader now, if thou wouldst understand,  
Why this same matter thus I take in hand:   

Because I love my brain to excercise,  
Though Zoylous, hap, may thinke'ts otherwise,  
Because I love to keep my mind from folly,  
Or humour which is called Melancholy.  
But some will say, perhaps, if this be true,  
You might have kept it from the vulgar view:  
I answer no, for who could then repair,  
To buy new fashion robs at Lambeth Fair.  
The Parliament hath p'uld them down and I  
Have set there trinkets out for men to buy,  
Lawn sleeves, Hoods Surplices, with rest o'th' rabble,  
Thus ends the prologue, here gins the Fable.    

LAMBETH FAIR Wherein is sold, Ceremonies all Both new and old.  

No sooner was the sable darkness passed,  
And Sol his eye on our Horizon cast  
By whose bright beams those clouds dispersed were,  
Which did benight the Land with horrid fear;  
But presently the people heard strange Fables.  
The Bishops went to Lambeth with their Babbles,  
Where a new Fair was lately consecrate  
For Popish Garments, that were out of date:  
And when their shops and stales, and booths were made,  
With all things fitting for that holy Trade:  
O'th' tops o'th' stand all, for fear of evil,  
Were Crosses set, to scare away the Devil:  
With might and main, the people began to flock,  
And all were present there by nine a clock,  
The Clerk o'th' Fair was presently bespoken,  
To give them liberty their stalls to open.  
To keep out thiefs the keeper's place he deems;  
But Keeper he was run away it seems:  
Well let him go, the Bishops cried what then?  
We have a nimble and quicksighted Wren,  
Who when he comes, can soar and fly about,  
To spy, and keep the knavish Rabble out.   

The Master of the Fair was called upon,  
But answers made, he to the tower is gone;  
That he was absent, it was taken ill,  
But sure he went to th' Tower against his will:  
Proclaim the Fair, the Bishops all, they cried,  
For we dare hardly longer here abide;  
The Clerk gave leave, the Crier on a hill  
Standing, began to cry with voice so shrill.   

Oyes; Oyes; I do cry,  
The Bishops trinkets who will buy.   

This being done of Bishops all the Crew,  
Began with speed, their wearing robes to show,  
And with extended voice, they all did cry,  
Come Customers, see what you lake, and buy;  
here's Vestments consecrate, all sorts and sizes,  
You may have here, if you'll come to the prizes:  
Buy Fairings for your children here are toys,  
Fit for your purpose, be they Gerls, or Boys;  
Caps for your Boys to hurl into the air,  
And Beads for Girls are here in Lambeth Fair:  
What though these Robes were first devised in Hell,  
Tush that's no matter, we'll good pen worths sell:  
Here look upon them, they are very good and strong,  
They're neat and handsome, and will last you long,  
They're very full and large. you ne'er saw stronger,  
I would not sell them durst I keep them longer.  
Buy a Crucifix, another loud doth call,  
IT will scare the Devil and will preserve your soul?  
Lay out your money, hang up worldly pelf,  
I will seled cheaper, than I had it myself:  
It's strange to see how men their money keep,  
What come you all to Lambeth fair to sleep;  
Come buy lawn sleeus I have no money took,  
Here, try them on, you'll like a Bishop look  
And may get honour, both of great and small,  
And Lord it o'er your fellow brethren all:  
If that the times should chance once more to turn,  
Then might you Lord it, like as we have done,  
Come hither friend and buy this silken Gown,  
I'm sure you cannot matched in Lambeth town:  
In this same Gown, did Canterburis Grace,  
At High-Commission show his graceless face;  
Many a storm and shower it will abide,  
Yea, and a world of knavery it will hid;  
Sir look upon't and view it at your leisure,  
Go to the price, for you I feign would pleasure,  
Come buy his Grace's gown, the price is small,  
And if you will: I'll sell you grace and all.  
Though he have worned it's ne'er the worse for wearing,  
Girt it but close, and never fear the tearing.   

Come buy my Crosier staff, another he gins,  
'Ts excellent to keep dogs from your shins:  
Pray Sir let me some of your money take,  
And keep this staff for its old master's sake.   

Another comes, as if his back would break,  
Burdened with vestures, and 'gan thus to speak,  
Trinkets I have good store, within my pack,  
I pray you view them, and see what you lack;  
See for your love, and for your money buy,  
Name what you want, He fit you presently,  
My pack it is a Wardrobe, large and fair,  
Wherein are Mitters, Caps rotund, and square,  
The rarest Episcopals, that ever you did see,  
Are in my pack, come, pray you buy of me;  
Her's rich embroidered ware, choose where you please,  
I have a thousand such like knacks as these:  
Buy this brave Rochet, buy this curious Cope,  
The Tippit, Scarf, they all came from the Pope;  
He sell them at a rate you cannot lose,  
Or else exchange them for a pair of shoose;  
I must to Rome, I can no longer stay,  
I pray you buy them, I must hence away.  
Then after that unto this jolly Fair,  
A little Wren came flying through the air.  
And on his back betwixt his wings he bore,  
A minister stuffed with Crosses, Altars store,  
With sacred Fonts, and are guilt Cherubims,  
And bellowing Organs, chanting curious Hymns,  
The hallowed Host, cum Priests, and singing boys,  
With Antic Cringers, and a thousand toys:  
Thus than this mighty WREN, unto the Fair,  
Brought his Cathedral pack, thus stuffed with ware;  
The door's wide-oped, there thousands came to see,  
The Romish Relics of the Hierarchy;  
Where all were set to sale, and at low rate,  
Because they 'gan to wax quite out of date,  
Buy my high Altars, he lifts up his voice,  
All sorts of Messe-bookes, here you may have choice,  
Here's Bells baptised will make a dainty sound,  
Pray if you please step in and ring them round:  
Then after that were seen a Regiment,  
Of Hellborn Locusts from Cocytus sent,  
To draw a mighty cart wherein were brought,  
Plurality of Churches to be bought.   

Then cried an other, Sir, what will you buy?  
I pray step in Sir, do not so pass by.  
here's a Cathedra, once Saint Peter's Chair,  
The rarest thing to buy in Lambeth Fair.  
The candid Surplice, and the wedding rings:  
Pictures for Bibles, and such pretty things:  
Here's the late Canons and the new found oath:  
To sell Et caetera I am very loath:  
You formerly have heard by true relation:  
These are the toys we made i'th' Convocation.  
Oath ex officio, here if you will buy:  
Or High commission, take it presently.  
Her's Ember week's with thin-chap jack-a-lent,  
To help you at a pinch when all is spent:  
Her's Holly days to sport the time away:  
Or book of pastimes for the Sabbath day.  
Her's Deans, and prebend's, and the filthy Nest  
Of Pursuivants, promotters and the rest,  
Chancelours; Officials, Surrogates, and all  
The lofty Courtiers of Commission Hall:   

Come Clergy Chapmen, to your Hierarchy,  
Heers excellent ware, as good as ere you see;  
jure Divino thats become our Doom,  
We'll seled for Wharfage to the coast of Room.  
Burials and Church we have wondrous store,  
Upon my word, they all come from the whore;  
Then next to him, a fiery fat guts fell,  
Brought six and twenty Bishoprics to sell;  
With gags and whips, and prisons for all those,  
That should their cursed Hierarchy oppose,  
With catch him Pursuivant, take him to the jail,  
There let him lie without Mainprize or Bail,  
‛ Ere he get from us, we will make him see  
Experimentally, we Bishops be:  
Our Courts and Jurisdictions are at sale:  
Come buy them quickly, 'ere they be too stolen.   

An other Bishop, with a Box did ride,  
And with extended voice he loudly cried,  
To Scholars all that Ministers would be,  
Come hither, buy the Holy Ghost of me.  
But Simon Magus he was in the ground,  
And none to buy the Holy Ghost was found.   

An other Bishop he a pack brought in,  
The which was stufed with Licences toth' brim,  
And presently he cryeth out for fury,  
Her's Licences to preach, to Church, and bury.  
If wedding's out and your disposed to wed,  
Come buy a Licence, and away to bed.   

What all pass by? 'tis strange time turns her wheel,  
And bends her brow upon us, that we feel  
No handsaile yet, our wares be charmed sure,  
And (like ourselves) there's none will it endure,  
It's doomed to dismal fate, despised and scorned,  
Though never so costly, or so much adorned:  
Her's omne venale, yet no money flies,  
Our ware's dog cheap, and thus credit dies:  
For such a Fair I never did behold,  
We bring our ware, but nothing can be sold:  
I wonder said one, what was our intent,  
To make our Fair thus at the Parliament.  
For we are mocked hereby saucy Jacks,  
They bid the Pedders, to put up their packs.  
Another Bishop lifting up his voice,  
Cried out amain, of live I have choice.  
I'll sell you two or three, if that you please,  
So you'll have money coming in with ease,  
If that to preach, yourself you can't endure,  
Get some poor journeyman to serve your Cure;  
You'll quickly light on such a one I trow,  
We have made more, than how to live do know.  
Wax Candles, Tapors, another cries and calls,  
These brought I with me from Cathedral Paul's,  
They'll scare the Devil, and put him unto flight,  
When he perceiv's a consecrated light;  
When we at Matins and at Evensong were,  
We had them by us then, devoid of fear;  
They'll bring delight unto your eyes and nose,  
They burn so clear and smell so like a Rose,  
And when you think that it hath burnt enough,  
Then blow it out, you shall not smell the snuff,  
Or else you may on whom you will bestow it,  
They'll joy to think a Bishop once did owe it.   

Come hither Friend another loud doth call,  
I'll sell you here my Common-Prayer-Bookes all,  
Sir view this same, and take it in your hand,  
This book but lately no man durst withstand,  
For if he did, and we thereof did hear,  
We sure did make him a Commissioner,  
And if he chanced appearance for to miss,  
To Limbo Patrum, he was sent for this;  
And if he did not us some money give,  
In that Abyss we doomed him still to live.  
Money my hearns another loud doth call,  
I see see I am not now in Lambeth hall,  
No sooner I from Dinner then was risen,  
Men brought me chink to free them out of prison,  
I'm broke, I'm broke, another than did say,  
Come buy my hoods I can no longer stay,  
What mean ye Sirs? the day is almost spent,  
Come buy my Trinkets all incontinent;  
Come hither Friend the price is very small,  
I'll sell my coat, it is Canonical,  
Come buy this Mitre Sir, if ye be able,  
The virtue of it is inestimable,  
Buyed Sir, and wear it and then soon I hope,  
You will rise higher and become a Pope,  
I tell you truly had not fortune left me,  
I would have kept it until Death bereft me.  
It now beginning to grow towards night,  
Comes a grave Doctor running in with might,  
His courage stout was something now abated,  
He brings his golden Slippers consecrated,  
And cry's come buy these Slippers here of mine,  
They are embossed with Holiness Divine,  
They will in all your ways preserve you sound,  
And with them you may tread on holy ground,  
If you'll but wear them, thus I'll tell you more,  
You'll leave the earth and to the Heavens may soar  
They're filled with holiness within and round about,  
Here look upon them see how't breaketh out.   

If not my slippers then my great Bumbo,  
I'll seled you now; what answer: No no no,  
We thought our ware would sell at such a price,  
And of our hands been vented in a trice:  
That this last Act upon the English Stage,  
Would forded money, for your Pilgrimage  
To Babylon the great; how ere we dreamt no less,  
Then Ransom for his prisoned Holiness;  
But he nor we, must by this Lambeth Fair,  
Get help I see by this our Popish ware.   

Whilst thus the Bishops there, their guts and they,  
Called to their Customers to come away,  
A Messenger came running through the crowd,  
And to the Bishops thus he spoke aloud,  
Away to Rome or Tyburn choose you whether,  
I know your shoes are made of running leather:  
For all the Laws o'th' Land you have out run,  
And I come here to tell you what is done,  
The Parliament hath pulled your pride tothth' ground,  
And by the House three times your voted down,  
Your wars not worth a—, for all your cogging,  
See where the Hangman comes away be jogging,  
Alas cried they, is all our labour loss?  
Others get money, we have but the cross  
For we are crossed in our expedition,  
And fly we must, for all Oxford's Petition,  
Yet notwithstanding herein lies our hope,  
We shall be entertained by the Pope.  
With that like men of Senses quite bereft,  
They ran away and all their trinkets left,  
A friend of mine to me did then repair,  
Desiring me to pen this famous. Fair.  
Which I have done and have it here to sell,  
Come buy the Fair of me and so farewell.   
FINIS.