THE
HECATOMB:
Or,
Presbyterian Dinner.
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A Zealous Brother, and Geneva true,
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Had Living quit at Feast of Bartholmew,
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Shunning profane Fair-Pig, 'twere sin to name,
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To holy House for consolation came:
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Adieu was bid to Publican and Sinner,
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And's yearning Bowels refreshed with good Dinner.
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Then, though he were born down by Hoods and Tippets,
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And could not Gospel carve, 'twas serv'd in Sippets:
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While in's long-winded two How'rs Prayer's place
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They had as large and sanctified a Grace;
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And Sermon-lieu a Chorus of his discourse
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Was interlarded 'twixt or that or this course,
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Good, holy, pious Meditation,
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The Quintessence o'th' Revelation,
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Drawn through th' Reverberatory of his Nose,
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Approv'd the Females weaker Stomachs to close.
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First, the Saints joys he thence makes good
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Are to them typified by earthly Food:
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The crystal River, and life-giving Tree,
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With Fruit twelve sorts, what other can they be?
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This Heathens aim'd at in their Milky way,
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Their Heavenly Nectar and Ambrosia.
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But when particular Dishes he's among,
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He handles them alike with Teeth and Tongue
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At tast of Manchet he doth erst repeat,
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How God his Children fed with finest Wheat.
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But oh! the Salt (for that, be sure, 's in sight;
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Cuckolds shan't dine there, though they've greatest right)
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Matthew the fifth is streigth his ready Text,
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Where'ts savour and no-savours shrewdly vext;
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While its keen Spirit he exalteth (mark here)
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Beyond Chymical Greek, or Doctor Barker,
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And vogues the savour in it's to be found,
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As if he were Toll-Master of the Sound;
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But when with holy smack he wrinckles Nose,
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Pepper you'd think and Mustard did oppose
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But what's lost savour, and to Dunghill must,
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(Ashes to ashes, dust returns to dust)
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Are mitred Prelates, Deans, and Prebends too,
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Profane Choristers, and that Papal Crew;
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These have no salt indeed, nor Female itches,
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That's to be found in Presbyterian Breeches.
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Then at the Beef and Veal, that would abash man,
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He minds them of the stiff-neck'd Bulls of Bashan;
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And how it better is much by the half
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To be an humble, lowly, sucking Calf,
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That hankers and bleats after holy Teat,
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Then with the Bulls to feed on Forest-meat.
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But whether Lamb's in season when 'twas doubt,
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'Tis like to Preaching (quoth he) in and out.
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Then Peters pow'r was canvass'd or'e and or'e,
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Whether's Commissions larger then before,
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When thrice the Sheep and Lambs he's bid to feed;
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But on the place when all seem not agreed,
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He Metaphor unriddles with quaint Wit,
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What Lamb is meant he tells, and falls to it.
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He onely hinted at the Venison Pasty
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The Roes o'th' Mountains, they fell on so hasty.
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Next at the Fowl, green Plover, and squab Pigeon,
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Partridge and Pheasant, Woodcock, Teal and Wigeon,
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He bids them think how scarce was Pigeon's dung
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When that Samaria was besieg'd so long;
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Talks of the Dove and Cab, then cries to Gull,
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continu'd to us plentifull.
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The sight of Custard doth this hint afford,
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of the sincere Milk of holy Word.
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Thus as the Meat's serv'd in unto his Wish,
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He feeds and meditates on e'ry Dish:
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While his discourse thereon so well is took,
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It pleaseth more then garnish of the Cook.
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Nor does the Sawce want Proof from Scripture-Truths,
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From Boaz Vinegar-Bottle drawn and Ruth's:
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When a near-sitting Sister doth repeat,
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How Jacob brought his Father sav'ry meat.
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Then, gorg'd at last up to the Gullet-brinks,
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He calls for Grace Cup to fill up the chinks;
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Which to him, mingled with quick art and speed,
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Being 'ministred by his Ganymede,
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At few go-downs he empties, and ne're strains,
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As if he were to have th' Bowl for his pains:
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Then froathy Foam wiping from Beard o'regrown
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(Since tribulation Barber it had none)
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He to commend it doth as large dilate,
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As erst Stubs did in praise of Chocolate.
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At length the lovely Fruit invites his Eyes
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To contemplate a while on Paradise.
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Then rises Question 'bout the Tree-of-Life,
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Hotly debated 'twixt them scarce sans strife,
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What Fruit it bore so lovely for to see,
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As tempted Man first into misery:
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But that's soon hush'd, for fear Sister new-sprung
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With holy Bearn should sin, and for it long.
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Thus gins he Diner in the Revelation,
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And ends it in the first Creation:
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Whil'st he, perusing o're his Capon's bones,
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For Mercies fatning HIGGAI'* SELAH tones;
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When that did cease, and that his Tongue grew dull,
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'Twas well concluded, that his Bellys full.
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Then what next follows, but the Mystery,
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They should encrease the Saints, and multiply.
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*That word
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had the hiccop.
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