Here you will find the Long Poem The Distracted Puritan of poet Richard Corbet
Am I mad, O noble Festus, When zeal and godly knowledge Have put me in hope To deal with the Pope As well as the best in the college? Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. In the house of pure Emanuel I had my education, Where my friends surmise I dazel'd my eyes With the sight of revelation. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. They hound me like a bedlam, They lash'd my four poor quarters. Whilst this I endure, Faith makes me sure To be one of Foxes martyrs. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. These injuries I suffer Through antichrist's perswasion. Take off this chain! Neither Rome nor Spain Can resist my strong invasion. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us!) I have knock'd off three already; If they let me alone I'll leave him none; But they say I am too heady. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city I met the great red dragon; I kept him aloof With the armour of proof, Though here I have never a rag on. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. With a fiery sword and target, There fought I with this monster; But the sons of pride My zeal deride, And all my deeds misconster. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. I un-hors'd the Whore of Babel With the lance of Inspiration; I made her stink, And spill the drink, In her cup of abomination. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. I have seen two in a vision With a flying book between them. I have been in despair Five times in a year, And been cur'd by reading Greenham. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. I observ'd in Perkins' tables The black line of damnation; Those crooked veins So stuck in my brains, That I fear'd my reprobation. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. In the holy tongue of Canaan I plac'd my chiefest pleasure, Till I prick'd my foot With an Hebrew root That I bled beyond all measure. Boldly I preach, I hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. I appear'd before the Archbishop And all the high Commission; I gave him no grace, But told him to his face That he favour'd superstition. Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice Mitres, copes, and rochets! Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets.