Page:Political ballads of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (IA politicalballads02wilk).pdf/43

  ’Las! what’s conſcience
  In Sherlock’s own ſenſe^[1],
Where intreſt lies at ſtake, and oaths with him are nonſenſe.
  The Temple’s maſter
  Fears no diſaſter,
He can take a hundred oaths and yet be ne’er faſter;
  He’ll wrangle, and brangle,
  And all the cauſe entangle,
Nothing now can ſerve the wretch except the old triangle.

  For holy cauſe, Sir,
  You may break laws, Sir;
Not treaſon then, nor perjury, will ſignify two ſtraws, Sir.
  So bſd our fate is
  Worſer far than papiſts;
For Socinus rules the Church, and is ruled by an Atheiſt.
  The Nation’s Damnation
  Was this laſt Reformation,
For you muſt either take the ſwear, or ſtarve, or loſe your ſtation.

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1. See the preceding ballad.