Page 47
Thus the Priest's work, who talk for Self,
Is Tangling talk against it Self;
'Gainst Truth a Prate, a piteous Preachment,
That can't make good its own Impeachment.
As Dr: Owens Doctrine Does,
Who heeds not well which way he Goes,
Baxter's, Tomb's, Dansons dances Round,
And Round again in th' self same Ground;
It staggers to and fro, and Reels,
Skips up and down, and runs on Wheels,
Starts aside like some broken Bow,
Crosses Christ like Cris X Crosse in th' Row,
Whoso can feel in it may Feel
As 'twere a Wheel within a Wheel:
A Net, Gin, Trap a Snare's in It,
A Whirlpool, Gulf, Bottomlesse Pit,
Wind, Dust, Husk, Chasse, no stable Steeple,
A Tale, that takes unstable People,
A Toy, a Cloud, Mist, Smoak, a Fogg,
No Quakerisme, but some Quavering Bogg;
A Quick-sand, a Quagmire, that Sucks,
Who's in 't his feet out hardly Plucks,
Himself who's In, gets seldome Out,
It self's more seldome In then Out;
It flutters like some blind night Bat,
Now here, now there, this way, now That,
Now it is One thing, then Another,
And now and then nor t' One nor t' Other.
Somtimes it's This, somtimes it's That,
Somtimes its This, and This, and That,
Somtimes 'tis either This, or That,
Somtimes 'tis neither This, nor That,
Now This, not th' Other, a non its Either,
Then by and by both Both, and Neither.
One while it looks like So, not No,
Another while like No, not So,
One way it seems or So, or No,
Another way, nor No, nor So,
Some wayes it shewes both So and No,
So 't's a meer endlesse No, and So.
Sam: Fisher.