From heaving, now the cloaths it pluckt The men, for feare, together stuck, And in their sweat each other duck’t. They wished A thousand times that it were day; ’Tis sure the divell! Let us pray. They pray’d amain; and, as they say, —— —— Approach of day did cleere the doubt, For all devotions were run out, They now waxt strong and something stout, One peaked Under the bed, but nought was there; He view’d the chamber ev’ry where, Nothing apear’d but what, for feare. vThey leaked. Their stomachs then return’d apace, They found the mutton in the place, And fell unto it with a grace. They laughed Each at the other’s pannick feare, And each his bed-fellow did jeere, And having sent for ale and beere, They quaffed. And then abroad the summons went, Who’ll buy king’s-land o’ th’ Parliament? A paper-book contein’d the rent, Which lay there; That did contein the severall farmes, Quit-rents, knight services, and armes; But that they came not in by swarmes To pay there. Night doth invite to bed again, The grand Commissioners were lain, But then the thing did heave amain, It busled, And with great clamor fil’d their eares, The noyse was doubled, and their feares; Nothing was standing but their haires, They nuzled. Oft were the blankets pul’d, the sheete Was closely twin’d betwixt their feete, It seems the spirit was discreete And civill. Which makes the poore Commissioners Feare they shall get but small arreares, And that there’s yet for cavaliers One divell. They cast about what best to doe; Next day they would to wisemen goe, To neighb’ring towns some cours to know; For schollars Come not to Woodstock, as before, And Allen’s dead as a nayle-doore, And so’s old John (eclep’d the poore) His follower; Rake Oxford o’re, there’s not a man That rayse or lay a spirit can, Or use the circle, or the wand, Or conjure; Or can say (Boh!) unto a divell, Or to a goose that is uncivill, Nor where Keimbolton purg’d out evill, ’Tis sin sure. There were two villages hard by, With teachers of presbytery, Who knew the house was hidiously Be-pestred; But ’lasse! their new divinity Is not so deep, or not so high; Their witts doe (as their meanes did) lie Sequestred; But Master Joffman was the wight Which was to exorcise the spright; Hee’ll preach and pray you day and night At pleasure. And by that painfull gainfull trade, He hath himselfe full wealthy made; Great store of guilt he hath, ’tis said, And treasure. But no intreaty of his friends Could get him to the house of fiends, He came not over for such ends From Dutch-land, But worse divinity hee brought, And hath us reformation taught, And, with our money, he hath bought Him much land.