Altho' they knew the Log divine
No Stomach had to Meat or Wine,
But in thofe Days they'd Priests that us'd
To pick up what their Gods refus'd,
Wifely confidering 'twas not fitting
Good Food fhould fpoil for want of
(eating.
However, in thofe Pious Times,
Mankind were confcious of their@rimes,
And would not blufter, rave and bicker
For Dame Religion in their Liquor,
As roaring Bullies do when tipfy,
For this fair Punk, or that lewd Gypfy.
Then Garlands were on Maypoles hung,
Where Nymphs and Shepherds danc'd
(and fung,
And rural Swains with Pipes and Tabors
Delighted both themselves and Neigh-
(bours,
Enjoy'd their Bread în peace and quiet,
Without Contention, Feud, or Riot;
Obey'd their Princes unmolested,
And pay'd' due rev'rence to the Prieft (hood;
But in thefe Days of Reformation,
When Faith depends on Revelation,
And we but one Great God adore,
The giddyWorld is plagu'dwith more
Religious Whims than heretofore:
As if each dreaming Tom a doodle,
With crop-ear'd melancholy Noddle,
Had right to teafe, mifguide and bait us
With fome new holy Ignis fatuus,.
And putting on a fober Face,
That outward Sign of inward Grace,
Pretend, without a Page of Learning,
To be more knowing and difcerning,
In all myfterious holy Matters,
Than half a hundred Pauls or Peters.
The firft of thefe that undermine
The Church, and all that is Divine,
Is prickear'd Presbyterian Jack,
That preaching, praying,whiningQuack
Who does more harm 'mong Female
(Plackets,
Than old Ponteus with his Packets.
A King he hates, tho' for no reafon,
But for the Love he bears to Treafon ;
The very beft of God's Vicegerents,
By him are represented Tyrants:
All Loyalty, but flatt'ring Knav'ry,
And true Allegiance, downright Slav'ry.
Yet none can more imperious be,
Or claim more rev'rence than he.
To Bishops he's a Foe most spightful,
The very Name to him is frightful;
And Lawn he fcorns, because his Merit,
He knows, can never reach to wear it.
So he that travels thro' the Streets
On Foot, derides the Coach he meets,
Not for its rattling thro' the Town,
But 'caufe himself has ne'er a one.
Whene'er in boarded Booth he teaches, The only Doctrine that he preaches, Is loudly railing 'gainft his Betters, And binding Kings in Chains and Fetters That all within his Holy Place, May fuck Rebellion in with Grace, And when occafion ferves, be ready To pull down Sov'reign Lord or Lady. The Church he wickedly blafphemes, And fhews his Malice in Extreams; Condemns her to his gaping Hearers, For holding many Popish Errors; Calls her the Babylonian Whore, And gives her fifty Titles more,
Deriv'd from Calvin, Knox, and others
That juftly maybe deem'd their Brothers
His Morals are intirely fuch
As held and practic'd by the Dutch,
Extracted from Geneva College,
Where callow Saints improve their
(Knowledge, And learn, when young, to cover bale Opinions with a godly Face;
And as fome wife Obfervers tell us,
To be religiously Rebellious,
And mifapply, like mad Divines,
The Word of God to bad Designs.
So pious Matron that beguiles
Her Husband, and her Bed defiles,
To fhew her undigested Goodness,
Talks Scripture even in her Lewdness.
• The next Reformer of the Nation, Who Cants and Prays by Infpiration, Affects
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