A continuance of Albions England: by the first author. VV.VV.

CHAP. 98.

NExt these of Saints, vnsanctified, that also sturre the State, Calumnize Church, our Liturgie, and Rites in criticke rate. Yet (let not men religious, or but morall good replie) What are they but the mapped Orbs of all Hy∣pocrisie? Of Humor, Pride, Peruersnesse fead, nor be Irreuerence spoke, Too aduantagiously from out our Rubrick they vnyoke, And Canons old and new by them are, too securely, broke, Yea and, offensiuely, vnto our Regulars, submis To meete Conformetie, that by Nouators dallied is. For in euasiue Discipline, and tolerating Lawe, Meant howsoeuer, baine from balme doe such Fantasticks drawe, And giddie Flights of Bussards oft deuote them to some Dawe: Who, howsoeuer he impungs our Order in Church Rites, Them tearming Romish Ragges, or with his leaden Sword thē smites, Yet whatsoeuer Papistrie exacted, payed yet, His scrupulous Reformitie, will nought thereof remit. Nay, Frier more did neuer preach deuotion to his Dame Than these Addition, nor for aught with-hild did so exclame. Which were indeed allowable in any more than These; That are in all but for themselues, all would, will nothing leese. Whose holy Noses ouer-hang at Markets, Staules, and Sacks, There hucking cheapth, here hearkening dearth, to set abroach their Stacks. And if of these Irregulars (as few haue) some giue-out,

They of their Owne prouided are sufficiently no doubt, Or know to lay their knife aboord, at others Costs, for Fare And greater Ease than Studie them or Pulpetrie can spare. Or if shall of Pluralities be likely Risses, then Their Saintships are as capable thereof as sinfull men. Say somethings faultie in abuse of good Lawes, what of so? A lawfull Calling, Season, Cause, still hand in hand should goe. Synods & Senats should they to preposterous Schismes giue place, Lawes would be sick of Lunacie, still alter would the Cace. The Adders Tayle, because it had the Sting, would hale the Head, Ensewd, the blind Conductor to a deadly Down-fall lead. Were Sailers scornd the Master for Director, him they drownd, A Tempest hapt, none could direct, and all a Shipwrack found. Of Plebales when they rush into Reformitie like ground, And like successe: themselues for most cannot themselues expound. Nor captiously be taine the Tearme of Puritane, but know, To Puritie faind of Impure, so knowne, we badder owe, Than by a bare Sarcasmus to obtrude on such the Lie Of them beloued: Censure then of me as censure I, That iterate, let Pharisies not Publicanes applie: And care not Termes, but cleere the Schismes in peruerse humour lead, And in a nick-nam'd Puritane an Hypocrite be read. For vpright hearts, for holie hands, for reuerent tongues and eares Be Scriptures only, and to God no secret but appeares. Then babble lesse, and practise more of Pietie, if not, By knowing good and doing ill the rather Hell is got. Sith These and Romes, so dangerously, to Innouation tend Against the Church and publike Peace, or breake or make thē bend: At least, sith such Antitheses to Truth vnuisard are, Yet selfe-accusing Consciences seducing not forbeare, Of Spleene or Singularitie, no such Seducers spare. Should Law lack force, or Iustice faint, as neither doth-or ought, This comforts yet, Things not of God come of thēselues to nought.

Omitting serious Errants, and few pitied wits of some Conceited, and exemplarly consorted, now though dumme, Hopte howbeit no Lethargie their Senses doth benumme, (For somtimes good men, till remou'd, to wrong Opinions leane) Be medeld but of ayrie Saints, our Hypocrits we meane, Of whom too many be obseru'd too subtile and vncleane. Mongst many of an Hang-by in that kind, who, saue for gaine, Sees Pulpets only, echoeth Paul, and Magdalen doth faine, The scriptum est, as did the Diuell, for her auaile applies, Not for an Oxe an Oth, but for each trifle twentie Lies, Tiers Catechizing, hangs at mouthes for scapes, when shall ye sware Be'r-Lady or but Mack, for hot encounter then prepare, Admireth others Faults, whilst she doth nothing more than worse, Not sticking cautilously the hier of Filthinesse to purse, For, may she opportune for Pence, liues not like lurching Blaine, At her a cast, for now my Muse is in a merrie vaine.