THE RECANTATION Of a Penitent PROTEUS Or the CHANGELING, AS It was Acted with good Applause in St. Mary's in Cambridge, and St. Paul's 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 deserved 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 myself the Brand,  
Here by confessing I have been i'th' wrong,  
I come to boar myself through my own Tongue.  
In learning my poor Parents brought up me,  
And sent me to the University,  
There I soon found bowing the was to rise:  
And th'only Logic 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 preferment in the Wind,  
I followed that hot sent without control,  
I bowed my body, and I sung Fa Sol;  
I cozened Doctor Cousins, and e'er long  
A Fellowship obtained For a Song.  
Then by degrees I climbed until I got  
Good friends, good clothes, 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 Consistory I was tried,  
Where like a Villain I both swore and lied,  
And from the Whore I made, I was made free,  
By purging of myself incontinent LEE.  
B●t as I scorned to Father mine one Brat,  
'Twas done to me as I had done with That.  
The Doctors all when a Doctor I would be,  
As a base Son, refused to Father me,  
With much ado, at length by art and cunning,  
My Tears and Vows prevailed with Peter Gunning,  
Me to adopt and for his love and care,  
I will devout myself to Peter's Chair.  
Cambridge I left with grief 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 myself did list  
A Son o'th' Church as good as ever pi●t.  
But though I bowed, and cringed, and crossed and all,  
I only got a Vicarage very small.  
ere I was warm (and warm I ne'er had been  
In such a starved hole as I was in)  
A fire upon the Church and Kingdom came;  
Which I straight helped to blow into a flame.   

The Second Part.  
MY Conscience first like Balaams' Ass, was shy,  
Boggled, and winced, which when I did espy;  
I cudgeled her, and spurred 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 Bit I got,  
And made her learn the Presbyterian Trot.  
'Twas 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 Prelatical.  
I road her once to Rumford with a pack  
Of Arguments for Covenant on her back.  
That Journey she performed at such a rate  
The Committee gave me a rich piece of Plate.  
From Hatfield to St. Alban I did ride,  
The Army called for me to be their Guide,  
There I so spurred her that I made her fling  
Not only dirt but blood upon my King.  
When Cromwell turned his Masters out by force;  
I made the Beast draw like a Brewer's horse,  
Under the Rump I made her were a Crupper,  
And under Lambert she became a Trooper.  
When Noble Monk the King did home convey,  
She (like Darius' steed began to Neigh.  
I taught her since to Organ Pipes to Prance,  
As Banks his Horse could to a fiddle dance,  
Now with a Snaffle or a twined Thread  
To any Government she'll 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 ere I please;  
And if at Rack and Manger she may be,  
Her Colt's Tooth She will keep most wanton-LEE.  
I'll change as often as the Man i'th' Moon;  
His frequent Changing makes him rise so soon,  
To eat Church Plumbroth ere it all be gone,  
I'll have the, Devil's spoon but I'll 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 'twere but a Knave.  
If the great Turk to England come, I can  
Make Gospel truckle to the Koran;  
And if their Turkish Saboaths should take place.  
I have in readiness my Friday Face.  
If locked 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 pleased my mind;  
There were most she'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 Father's pardon I do crave,  
And hope my Mother's 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. Alban sins more red than any.  
To CHARLES' the first I was a bloody Foe,  
I wish I do not serve the second so,  
The only way to make me leave that trick,  
Is to bestow on me a Bishopric  
This is St Andrews Eve and for his sake  
A Bishopric in Scotland I could take;  
And though a Metropolitan there be;  
I'd be as Sharp 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 tied tail to tail make a sweet Change  
Mine only is Stange Lee, and his Le-Strange.  
FINIS.