Poem by Alexander Brome

The Holy Pedler

1.

FRom a Forraign shore
I am not come to store,
Your Shops with rare devices:
No drugs do I bring from the Indian King;
No Peacocks, Apes, nor Spices:
Such wares I do show,
As in England do grow,
And are for the good of the Nation;
Let no body fear
To deal in my ware,
For Sacriledge now's in fashion.

2.

I the Pedler am,
That came from Amsterdam,
With a pack of new Religions;
I did every one fit,
According to's wit,
From the Tub to Mahomets pigeons.
Great trading I found,
For my spiritual ground,
Wherein every man was a medler;
I made people decline,
The learned Divine,
And then they bought Heaven of the Pedler.

3.

First Surplices I took,
Next the Common-prayer-book,
And made all those Papists that us'd 'um;
Then the Bishops and Deans,
I strip'd of their means,
And gave it to those that abus'd 'um.
The Clergy-men next,
I withdrew from their Text,
And set up the gifted brother:
Thus Religion I made,
But a matter of trade,
And I car'd nor for one or t'other.

4.

Then Tythes I fell upon,
And those I quickly won;
'Twas prophane in the Clergy to take 'um;
But they serv'd for the Lay,
Till I sold them away,
And so did Religious make 'um;
But now come away
To the Pedler I pray;
I scorn to rob or cozen;
If Churches you lack,
Come away to my pack,
Here's thirteen to the dozen.

5.

Church Militants they be,
For now we do see,
They have fought so long with each other;
The Rump's Churches threw down,
Those that stood for the Crown,
And sold them to one another.
Then come you factious crue,
Here's a bargain now for you,
With the spoils of the Church you may revel:
Now pull down the bells,
And then hang up your selves,
And so give his due to the Devil.

1. To his Mistress (LAdy you'l wonder when you see)
2. The Damosel
3. The Wary Woer
4. On the Queens Arrival
5. On the Kings Return

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