{"Now was come about Holy-Cross Day, and now must my lord preach his first sermon to the Jews: as it was of old cared for in the merciful bowels of the Church, that, so to speak, a crumb, at least, from her conspicuous table here in Rome, should be, though but once yearly, cast to the famishing dogs, under-trampled and bespitten-upon beneath the feet of the guests. And a moving sight in truth, this, of so many of the besotted blind restif and ready-to-perish Hebrews! now maternally brought --nay (for He saith, ‘Compel them to come in’), haled, as it were, by the head and hair, and against their obstinate hearts, to partake of the heavenly grace. What awakening, what striving with tears, what working of a yeasty conscience! Nor was my lord wanting to himself on so apt an occasion; witness the abundance of conversions which did incontinently reward him: though not to my lord be altogether the glory.”--Diary by the Bishop’s Secretary, 1600.} What the Jews really said, on thus being driven to church, was rather to this effect:-- 1. Fee, faw, fum! bubble and squeak! Blessedest Thursday’s the fat of the week. Rumble and tumble, sleek and rough, Stinking and savory, smug and gruff, Take the church-road, for the bell’s due chime Gives us the summons--‘tis sermon-time! 2. Boh, here’s Barnabas! Job, that’s you? Up stumps Solomon--bustling too? Shame, man! greedy beyond your years To handsel the bishop’s shaving-shears? Fair play’s a jewel! Leave friends in the lurch? Stand on a line ere you start for the church! 3. Higgledy piggledy, packed we lie, Rats in a hamper, swine in a sty, Wasps in a bottle, frogs in a sieve, Worms in a carcass, fleas in a sleeve. Hist! square shoulders, settle your thumbs And buzz for the bishop--here he comes. 4. Bow, wow, wow--a bone for the dog! I liken his Grace to an acorned hog. What, a boy at his side, with the bloom of a lass, To help and handle my lord’s hour-glass! Didst ever behold so lithe a chine? His cheek hath laps like a fresh-singed swine. 5. Aaron’s asleep--shove hip to haunch, Or somebody deal him a dig in the paunch! Look at the purse with the tassel and knob, And the gown with the angel and thingumbob! What’s he at, quotha? reading his text! Now you’ve his curtsey--and what comes next? 6. See to our converts--you doomed black dozen-- No stealing away--nor cog nor cozen! You five, that were thieves, deserve it fairly; You seven, that were beggars, will live less sparely; You took your turn and dipped in the hat, Got fortune--and fortune gets you; mind that! 7.