Westminster college: OR, England's Complaint against those that sit in the Chamber called Jerusalem, alias, HENRY the Seventh chapel: Being a Discourse in Meeter, in behalf of Saint Peter, concerning the Power of the KEYES.  

Avaunt, prodigious Mountebanks, a set  
Whose very Names confound the Alphabet;  
A Catalogue, to call but as ye sit,  
Will torture Adoniram to a sweat;  
And starts this problem, whether that ye came  
So late from Babel or from Amsterdam.   

An hippo-centaur Linsey-wolsey pack,  
Scarce fit enough, for Booker's almanac:  
'Mongst whom the most completed, were he shown  
In his accoutrements, (without a Gown;)  
With Reverend Harry breeches, which between  
The loins are strengthened with a list of green,  
And those precisely tied above the joint,  
As daily neighbours to the codpiece point,  
With Rocket over all; 'twill hoyest the rate  
And put the King of Swedland out of date.  
An overcast of Nature, that may fright  
My Muse, and turn her stomach while I write,  
But yet have at ye, Sophisters, for I  
Have a preparative of Loyalty;  
And spite of all your vizard faces dare,  
Pronounce (though 'tis no matter) what ye are.   

And first, since now a Lustrum is complete,  
Since ye encroached upon Peter's seat;  
Since 'tis apparent ye discarded him  
As disaffected to your stratagem;  
His supplication now is, you may please  
Once to restore his Office and his keys;  
For now ye have unlocked the mysteries,  
Of all those hidden and obscure decrees.  
As in your League and Covenant ye profess,  
(That new found Path to worldly happiness,)  
Swallow that Pill ('tis gilded) and your eyes  
Shall be enlightened as in paradise:  
You may too sleep upon it, 'tis your hap  
Now that your wealth shall rain into your lap.   

Alas Philosophers, your Stone grows old,  
'Tis nought, but Covenant virtue works on gold;  
Then kiss we all our hands and make a leg,  
To th'Hen that laid us such a golden egg:  
And not like him (for that's the way to lose,)  
That (as the story tells us) killed his Goose;  
Yet is't not addle all this time? I doubt  
The smell and colour bid us look into 't;  
Now mercy on us! Chickens one may see  
Ith' shell contesting for the victory.  
(They look like Presbyterians that intend,  
To break with violence on the Bishop's land,)  
But let that pass; I'll one word to my friend,  
Hand over heads foul play, and there's an end.   

Proceed we then, next trophy of their Glory,  
Is that grand masterpiece, the Directory;  
That piece which had the Primitive Christians seen  
They had not yet believed it could have been;  
That tells the commonprayer Book is too blame,  
And adds new suffering to the martyr's flame:  
(Thrice happy Martyrs! that so long are dead  
And live not now to die unburied;  
As now 'tis thought expedient, but are got  
Up with Elias in his Chariot.)  
Tell us, ye Nest of jugglers, can there be  
To true Devotion such Antipathy?  
Produce the Koran, I'll be a Jew,  
Rather than keep this worship coined by you;  
That Phylactery for a Pagans wrist,  
Conveied unto us in a Scottish Mist:  
That trim and neat device o'th' newest fashion,  
That so much picked▪ the pocket of this Nation,  
For which their wages was in shillings more  
Each day, than they had seen of pence before.  
Of these S. Peter seems to give a hint, 
Pet. Epist. 2. Ch. p. 2. vers. 1, 2, 3.   
And put their Character in sacred Print.  
But (make us thankful) this distorted calf,  
Came to perfection in a year and half:  
And like an Oracle (though maimed and blind,)  
Took heart to grass and blated out his mind:  
Yet look a little first, and see it prance,  
About to th' tune of the blue Ordinance,  
which makes's believe, that they shall lose a limb  
At least, that go about to muzzle him:  
And their estates be turn●d into a bilk,  
That bar the foolish creature of his milk.  
Peace! hear him speak a little (I protest  
The very-very language of the Beast!)  
But we must bear with that, it cannot chew,  
In time 'twill learn the languages anew:  
Yet see! it stands for liberty, and cries  
Ye must be covered friends, in any wise.  
As i there were a difference in't at all,  
Betwixt your glittering Temple and my Stall.  
The head is most of worth (though Moses lose  
With terror at his first approach his shoes:)  
No Ceremonies therefore, fie upon't,  
No not so much as at the Sacrament.  
But cleanliness and decency befit,  
The Saints, O let us not abolish it.   

If former acts offend, 'tis their intent  
To make amends in th'other Sacrament:  
Bring here the basin, is the Babe defiled,  
Good Parson play the Barber with the Child;  
Place him in public view, in sight of all  
But spare your Crosses and your washing ball:  
And (that the Goldsmith may be quite undone,)  
The Father and the Godfathers are one.  
This Babe of grace shall be of more account,  
Than all those Antichristians of the font.   

More freedom for the faithful yet, if any  
Shall enter in the bonds of Matrimony,  
Th'Egyptian yoke is broken, and we dare  
Marry sans licence or the Jeweller;  
Our words are valid, and the Righteous may,  
Take pledge before hand 'gainst another day.  
Your Feast and ribbon is of Popish rite,  
Goose giblets and Sack-posset, so good night.   

All this the City plot with zealous force,  
As new Religion for a second course.  
That buy a mock-baptizing trick so dear,  
Their children hardly be their own I fear:  
That dam the Ring, and Book, and poor Amen,  
That so the match may be dissolved again.  
And for our holidays they were burr vain,  
A counterplot against the godlies' gain.  
If so, 'tis worth a stipend by the week,  
For the Contrivers of so quaint a trick.   

Yet notwithstanding this, we still desire  
Our Pater Noster, and our Creed entire:  
Although I heard one lately take his oath,  
They were providing fastian for them both;  
And thus alleged, it needs must want repair,  
That lasted ever since th' Apostles were:  
But for the former reason there is none,  
Unless they fear the kingdom come too soon.  
If these be thus reformed, what intents  
A change in all the Ten commandments:  
'Tis to be doubted they will put excise  
On all, but that which cries down Images;  
And yet 'tis strange there's none in all that den,  
But more resemble Images than men.   

As first, the thing whose head's in such a plight,  
It wants a cuff o'th' ear to set it right:  
Another like a crabfish, you would say,  
His back was stuffed up with &c.  
A third, so squeamish stomached, so uncouth,  
He's led away with any by the tooth:  
One more, that has good lungs, but's discontent.  
He cannot thumb the Pulpit as he meant,  
With ears (God bless!) so gifted, that do thrive  
So well you'll think that Midas is alive.   

These or the like (if any be so wise  
To preach before to get a Benefice:)  
He may be sure to see or speak with them,  
At their old quarters called Jerusalem.   
FINIS.   

Printed in the year 1647.