I have Nointed ye, and Tarr'd ye with my Doctrine, And yet the Murren sticks to ye, yet ye are Mangy, I will avoid ye. 2. Pray ye, Sir, be not angry, In the pride of your new Cassock, do not part with us, We do acknowledge ye are a careful Curate, And one that seldom troubles us with Sermons, A short slice of a Reading serves us, Sir, We do acknowledge ye a quiet Teacher, Before you'll vex your Audience, you'll sleep with 'em, And that's a loving thing. 3. We grant ye, Sir, The only benefactor to our Bowling, To all our merry Sports the first provoker, And at our Feasts, we know there is no reason, But you that edifie us most, should eat most. _Lop_. I will not stay for all this, ye shall know me A man born to a more beseeming fortune Than ringing all-in, to a rout of Dunces. 4. We will increase your Tithes, you shall have Eggs too, Though they may prove most dangerous to our Issues. 1. I am a Smith; yet thus far out of my love, You shall have the tenth Horse I prick, to pray for, I am sure I prick five hundred in a year, Sir. 2. I am a Cook, a man of a dri'd Conscience, Yet thus far I relent: you shall have tith Pottage. 3. Your stipend shall be rais'd too, good Neighbour _Diego_. _Die._ Would ye have me speak for ye? I am more angry, Ten times more vex'd, not to be pacified: No, there be other places for poor Sextons, Places of profit, Friends, fine stirring places, And people that know how to use our Offices, Know what they were made for: I speak for such Capons? Ye shall find the Key o'th' Church Under the door, Neighbours, You may go in, and drive away the Dawes. _Lop_. My Surpless, with one sleeve, you shall find there, For to that dearth of Linnen you have driven me; And the old Cutwork Cope, that hangs by Geometry: 'Pray ye turn 'em carefully, they are very tender; The remnant of the Books, lie where they did, Neighbours, Half puft away with the Church-wardens pipings, Such smoaky zeals they have against hard places. The Poor-mans Box is there too: if ye find any thing Beside the Posie, and that half rub'd out too, For fear it should awake too much charity, Give it to pious uses, that is, spend it. _Die_. The Bell-ropes, they are strong enough to hang ye, So we bequeath ye to your destiny. 1. 'Pray ye be not so hasty. _Die_. I'le speak a proud word to ye, Would ye have us stay? _2._. We do most heartily pray ye. _3._. I'le draw as mighty drink, Sir. _Lop_. A strong motive, The stronger still, the more ye come unto me. _3._. And I'le send for my Daughter. _Lop_. This may stir too: The Maiden is of age, and must be edified. _4._.