The Dagonizing of Bartholomew Fair, caused through the Lord Majors Command, for the battering down the vanities of the Gentiles, comprehended in Flag and Pole, appertaining to Puppet play.  
The 23. of August being the day before the Apostolic Fair.  

ON August's four and twentieth Eve,  
The City's Sovereign and the Shrieve  
To Smithfield came if you'll believe to see th'ungodly flags.  
The Livery men were sore put too't,  
Though some wore shoe, and some wore boot,  
They ' wre all constrained to trans on foot,  
God save 'em.   

Entering through Duck-lane at the Crown,  
The sovereign Cit began to frown,  
As if it abated his renown, the paint did so o'retop him.  
Down with these Dagons then, quoth he,  
They outbrave my day's Regality,  
For's pride and partiality  
Jove crop him.   

I'll have no puppet-plays, quoth he,  
The harmlesse-mirth displeaseth me,  
Begun on August twenty three, 'tis full twelve hours too early.  
A Younker than began to laugh,  
'Gainst whom the Major advanced white staff,  
And sent him to the Compter safe,  
sans parley.   

Another wight (in woeful wise)  
Besought the Major, his pupetries,  
That he would not Babell-onize, surely they were not whorish.  
Oh don't my bats Isabellize,  
They ne'er did Meretritialize  
Betwixt your Lordship's Ladies thighs,  
peace Villain.   

Another Mortal had a clout,  
Which on a long pole did hang out,  
At which the Major turned up his snout, for he was then advancing.  
Mounted with him came both the Shrieves,  
And Catchpoles with their hanging slieves,  
They showed much like a den of theev's  
though prancing.   

With that my Lord did silence break,  
He opened his mouth and thus did speak,  
'tis fittest quoth he that the weak unto the walls should go.  
There was a Varlet (close at hand)  
To execute (Gold chains) command  
Pulled wight away strait, notwithstand  
notwithstanding, fowl 'twas.   

He that showed wonders made of wax,  
Spoke in behalf of his fine knacks,  
Quoth he, we spit no fire of flax, nor such like puppet shows.  
Besides we show his Excellence,  
Quoth Major, that is a fair pretence,  
Godsnigs 'tis time that I were hence  
sh' away ' h goes.   

On top of Booth sat pudding john,  
(Lord would be loath to sit thereon,)  
I'm sure he wished his Lordship gone, yet durst not tell him so.  
But when his Lordship left the Fair,  
John set up throat did rend the Air,  
And glad he was, he loud did swear  
he was gone.    
So was Mr. FINIS.