English Puritan & Reformed

The Recantation of a Penitent Proteus

Robert Wild (1609-1679) · 1,170 words · 5 min

The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A66013.0001.001

Project Note

This is licensed under Creative Commons CC BY-NC-ND. This license allows reusers to copy and distribute the material in any medium or format in unadapted form only, for noncommercial purposes only, and only so long as attribution is given to the creator.

The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.

This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.

Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.

However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.

This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.

Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org

THE RECANTATION Of a Penitent PROTEUS Or the CHANGLING, 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 tohave 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 in the wrong,
       
        I come to
        
         bore
        
        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.
        
        Instead of
        
         Aristo
         
          •
         
         les Organon,
        
        Anthens and Organs I did study on,
       
        If I could play on them, I soon did find,
       
        I rightly had p
        
         •
        
        eferment in the
        
         Wind,
        
        I followed that hot sent without control,
       
        I bowed my body, and I sung
        
         Fa Sol
        
        ;
       
        I cozened Doctor Couzens, and e're long
       
        A Fellowship obtained
        
         For a Song.
        
        Then by degrees I clim'd until I
        
         got
        
        Good friends, good Cloths, 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
        
         Consitory
        
        I was tried,
       
        Where like a Villaine I both swore and lie'd,
       
        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 cring'd, and crossed and all,
       
        I only got a Vicarage very small.
       
        E're I was warm (and warm I never had been
       
        In such a starved hole as I was in)
       
        A fire upon the Church and Kingdom came;
       
        Which I strait helpit to blow into a
        
         flame.

        The Second Part.
       
        MY Conscience first like
        
         Balaam's Ass,
        
        was shy,
       
        Boggled, and winc'd, which when I did espy;
       
        I cudgel'd 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 Bitte
        
        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 rode 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.
        
         Albans
        
        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
        
         Brewers horse,
        
        Under the
        
         Rump
        
        I made her were a
        
         Crooper,
        
        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
        
         Twyned Thred
        
        To any Government she'l
        
         turn her head
        
        I have so
        
         broke
        
        her she doth never start,
       
        And thats the meaning of my
        
         broken heart.
        
        I have found out a cunning way with ease
       
        To make her
        
         cast her Coat
        
        when e're I please;
       
        And if at
        
         Rack
        
        and
        
         Manger
        
        she may be,
       
        Her
        
         Colts Tooth
        
        She will keep most
        
         wanton-LEE.
        
        I will change as often as the
        
         Man
        
        in the
        
         Moon
        
        ;
       
        His frequent
        
         Changing
        
        makes him rise so soon,
       
        To eat
        
         Church Plum-broth
        
        e're it all be gone,
       
        I will have the, Devils
        
         spoon
        
        but I will 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
        
         Quran
        
        ;
       
        And if their
        
         Turkish Sabbaths
        
        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
        
         Shees,
        
        and they most free and kind.
       
        By Chamber practice 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
        
        Fathers pardon I do crave,
       
        And hope my
        
         Mothers blessing
        
        yet to have.
       
        My
        
         Cambridge
        
        sins, my
        
         Bugden
        
        sins are vile,
       
        My
        
         Essex
        
        sins, my sins in
        
         Eli-Isle,
        
        My
        
         Leicester
        
        sins, my
        
         Hatfield
        
        sins are many,
       
        But my St.
        
         Albans
        
        sins more red then 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
        
         Andrew's
        
        Eve and for his sake
       
        A Bishopric in
        
         Scotland
        
        I could take;
       
        And though a
        
         Metropolitan
        
        there be;
       
        I'd be as
        
         Sharpe
        
        and full as
        
         Arch
        
        as he.
       
        Now may this Sermon never be forgot,
       
        Let others called 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.