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These are the men that plague and over-run
Like Goths and Vandalls all Religion.
Every Mechanick either wanting stock,
Or wit to keep his trade must have a flock,
The Spirit, cryes he, moveth me unto it,
And what the Spirit bids, must I not do it?
But having profited more than his flock by teaching,
And stept into authority by preaching
For a lay Office, leaves the Spirits motion
And streight retreateth from his first devotion.
But this he does in want, give him preferment,
Off goes his gown, God's call is no determent.
Vain foolish people, how are ye deceiv'd?
How many several sorts have ye receiv'd
Of things call'd truths, upon your backs laid on
Like Saddles for themselves to ride upon?
They rid amain, and hell and Satan drove,
While every Priest for his own profit strove.
Can they the age thus torture with their lyes,
Low'd bellowing to the world Impieties,
Black as their coats, and such a silent fear
Lock up the lips of men, and charm the ear?
Had that same holy Israelite been dumb,
That fatal day of old had never come
To Baals Tribe; oh thrice unhappy age!
While zeal and piety lye mask'd in rage
And vulgar ignorance! How we do wonder
Once hearing, that the heavens were forc'd to thunder
Against assailing Gyants, surely men,
Men thought could not presume such violence then:
But 'twas no Fable, or if then it were,
Behold a sort of bolder mortals here,
Those undermining shifts of knavish folly,
Using alike to God and men; most holy
Infidels, who now seem to have found out
A subtler way to bring their ends about
Against the Deity, than op'nly to fight;
By smooth insinuation and by slight:
They
