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To M. and his Mates.
IT is storied of Publius Clodius (lest Cicero should unjustly tax him of sacriledge) that he stept in, and first told the Senate, That Cicero had prophan'd all Religion in his house. Thus he that hath the most corrupt Lungs, soonest complains of the unsavoury breath of others. I invite not such, nor you Mr. M. and your company to my banquet; for, I know you are apter to fashion strange Interpretations of what was ne∣ver meant, than like civil guests, to cut fairly and resp∣ctively: you stick not to say any thing that is false, and misapply any thing that is true. Nacrissus-like, you are enamoured of your own beauty, and judge your selves the fairst and refinedst stuffe: you must be ownd (forsooth) as the GODLY PARTIE: Oh! it is an injury not to give you that title you give your selves forth to be, The Temple of the Lord, Th Temple of the Lord: and if reproved, presently cry, We are Abrahams chil∣dren: of all men you are the hardest to be cured; for, why should Physick be administred to those that are perfectly sound? I must take the liberty to tell you, That you forget to build up the Cedar-work of piety, and learn onely to paint over with Vermilion: to borrow the words of a wor∣thy Divine, Men think you Saints, you think your selves Angels, Flatterers make you Gods, and GOD knows