A Reasonable Motion IN The behalf of such of the clergy, As are now questioned in PARLIAMENT for their places.  
Together with the Conference betwixt the two great Associates, WILLIAM Arch bishop of CANTERBURY, and THOMAS late Earl of STRAFFORD.  
Printed in the unfortunate year to Priests 1641.   


VOuchsafe (GREAT LORDS) with patience for to hear  
Our just request, which we present you here.  
'Tis said abroad that you the Church would free  
Of sundry faults, which in the same there be.  
But that it's feared, and you perhaps conceive  
A change of things, we Priests will not receive.  
But will stand out for things we former had:  
And do them still, though you shall think them bad.  
But we do hope, by this to make it clear,  
That no such thing of us, you need to fear.  
For we (like Scots) will not such things put by  
As are imposed by sovereign Majesty.  
Nor are we like the Puritanish Sects,  
Who'll do no more than what the Word directs.  
We never yet have showed ourselves so ill,  
But what the State enjoined we did it still.  
And that your Honours may be sure of this,  
We can produce the ages past for us.  
You know King Edward did the mass put down,  
And set the Service book up in the room.  
We then the Clergy of the Land throughout,  
Forsook the old and took the newer up.  
When he was dead, and Mary had the crown,  
Then up goes mass, and Service it comes down.  
Yet we Sir Priests as men of quiet spirits,  
Obeyed the Prince, and turned unto our vomits.  
Some few years after Mary being dead,  
The crown is set upon her sister's head.  
Now she again puts down the idol mass,  
And hath the Service, as before it was.  
To this our Father Priests did then submit,  
Though most perhaps did mind it was not fit:  
Yet what the State did think for to be best,  
They question not, but do't, and therein rest.  
What they have done, we mean the like to do;  
Conform ourselves, to things confirmed by you.  
If you put down our Bishops from their chair:  
Their liturgy, and Courts, and other gear.  
What next by you shall be enacted then,  
Shall be observed by us the clergy men?  
But if you please to have them yet stand still,  
We are content, and yield to them we will.  
For government and worship, what care we,  
Or Rites, and Orders what in Church there be,  
Our care is only, for to keep from wants:  
For Conscience here, we leave to puritans.  
And this we judge to be no wise man's case,  
To deem his Conscience better than his place.  
The Canons late which were on us imposed,  
By you are thought not fit for to be used.  
Yet we (Sir Priests) did stand so much in awe,  
As that we meant to yield unto their Law:  
And ere that we will leave our gainful trade,  
We'll stoop to all what ere by man is made.  
Therefore brave Lords, as you in Court now sit:  
So let Religion be, as you think fit,  
We take no thought this way about God's will,  
But how to keep our Benefices still.  
And hope we do, although the better part,  
To cast us out can find it in their heart.  
Yet there are some, will speak for poor Sir John's:  
For lazy Dogs, old Priests, and idle Drones.  
For pluralists, non-res'dents, and such men;  
The Clergy now consisting most of them,  
And cause there is, the matter should be so:  
For if turned out (alas) what shall we do.  
It's now so long, since we forsook the trade  
Of cobbling, weaving, thatching, and the spade,  
That for to work our bodies are unfit;  
Nor can We bring our hearts at all to it.  
If we therefore must let our priesthood fall,  
This than we beg most humbly of you all.  
That still we may enjoy our belly cheer:  
And idly live, without all work or care:  
And if your honours will but grant us this,  
We are content, if you will us dismiss.  
For we came to the place for Conscience sake,  
As to be fed, and labour none to take.  
But yet we think, much better it will be,  
That in the priesthood left alone be we.  
For if the Puritans, the only men,  
Who wish us out, so that they may come in.  
Do get but once, into our place and room,  
They will not do as we (Poor fools) have done:  
They are (forsooth) so scruplous in their ways,  
That if it be against God's holy laws,  
They will not do it, no although it be  
A thing required of his majesty:  
But as for us our carriage is not so,  
If State command we never say it no.  
And this we dare affirm there is nowhere  
A more Time-serving Clergy than is here.  
When our sweet Bishops had by Act obtained,  
To have God's holy day with sports profaned.  
Although the purer sort against it taught:  
Yet we conformed, although we knew 'twas nought.  
What ever Laud devised, and on us cast,  
We did the same to hold our livings fast:  
And we foresaw what further was his hope,  
To bring us all in service to the Pope.  
Which thing, if he had once but brought to pass,  
To yield thereto our full intentment was.  
And thus we have your Honours made to see,  
Why in the priesthood we should suffered be.  
Namely for this, and nothing else at all,  
There's nought so bad, but yield thereto we shall.   
— Quid rides? mutato nomine de te  
Fabula narratur.   
Straff 
GOD save your Grace: How do you do?  Cant. 
My Lord, I thank you, well as you.  Straff. 
I have not seen your Grace of late  
So full of mirth, may't auspicate  
Some good event, and such as we  
May by it find our liberty,  
The Proverb him unwise doth hold,  
Who loves his fetters, though of gold.  Cant. 
Last night (my Lord, some nobler dream,  
Then did to sanguine, choler, phlegm,  
Or unto melancholy owe.  
Its birth, did on my fancy grow:  
Me thoughts I was in Oxford, where  
Lord chancellors name and power I bear:  
What shouts Saint John's there to me gave,  
My gladded ears yet ringing have;  
I heard their labouring joys and throng  
Of praises both in prose and song.  
And as methoughts from thence I came  
To Lambeth, I still heard the same  
So loud, that echo from Whitehall,  
Returned them to my Lambeth's wall.  Straff. 
In such a dream, O who would keep  
A noise to break your grace's sleep!  
And though dreams err, yet may this be  
To you a happy prophecy,  
And such a One as may prove true,  
And fair unto myself as you,  
For so by one compact of wit,  
Our counsels were together knit  
So close, so even, they did go  
To work the Common weal its woe,  
We cannot well ourselves define  
What plot was yours, or which was mine,  
They were each others inmates, twins  
That vied which most should number sins;  
Both slept, both waked at once, and whether  
They lost or won, both played together.  Cant. 
My Lord, you rage.  Straff. 
You cannot call  
Truth a disease, or rage at all:  
Truth neither can, nor will deceive you.  Cant. 
Farewell my Lord, for I must leave you.  Straff. 
Yet stay a while, and give to me  
Once more your benedicitee:  
I must confess I did begin  
To chide, but now forget my spleen.  Cant. 
It doth increase my joy: and sure  
The joy may well your praise procure:  
How think you? would this kingdom flout,  
To hear we two were falling out?  
Come be yourself, relate at length  
What armed Recusants, what new strength  
May come from Ireland to relieve  
Our dying faction.  Straff. 
Never grieve  
My settled soul: I do not know  
That root on which one hope might grow:  
But in conclusion there must be  
A Rope for you, an Axe for me.  Cant. 
Was this your so well grounded guess  
Of our increasing happiness?  
Ends thus your boasting, that you could  
Get money, men, or what you would,  
To curb the insolence of those  
That were, or would become our foes?  
False Straffords Earl.  Straff. 
Stop there, your Grace  
His tongue doth trot too round a pace:  
Look, look abroad, can you now see  
No Patent, no Monopolee;  
All your Projects, all your fine  
Devices, sick as Medium Wine,  
Can now no more Laud's, lawdlesse might,  
The Parson from the Pulpit fright,  
The Subject from the kingdom? What  
Could ruin do, which you did not:  Cant. 
There's something yet undone, 'tis true,  
But shortly to be done to you:  
Each Guard you have (for 'tis the will  
Of Fate to have you guarded still)  
Shall serve the minister of your doom,  
Your Executioner, not your Groom:  
Your head that Mastered so much Art,  
Ere long shall from your shoulders part:  
Your bloved your Scarlet must new die;  
Your spurs fall off, your Ermines fly,  
And of so great, so feared a Name,  
Scarce left a man that loves your Fame.  Straff. 
So, so (my Lord) my heart is glad.  
I own that grief your grace can mad;  
Your head no doubt, is grown the lighter,  
Since disinvested of the mitre:  
It was too proud a weight, and known  
To nurse bad thoughts, 'tis better gone.  
The shepherds on their Sheep-hooks laugh,  
And do upbraid your Crosiers staff:  
No more, your now deaf chaplains hark  
What hour shall speak you patriarch.  Cant. 
Farewell, farewell, your Time-calls on,  
Speak thoughts more sanctified, or none:  
'tis you must lead the way, and I  
Shall follow after by and by.  Straff. 
My lifes short knarled thread doth stand.  
Expecting Fates impartial hand:  
Heaven hath my thoughts, (my Lord) yet stay,  
Shall we ne'er meet again?  Cant. 
We may:  
There's room enough in heaven for two  
Have more transgressed than I or you:  
But I what time and place forbear  
To name; 'tis GOD knows when and where.  
FINIS.