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The squib, the ignis fatuus, of Religion!
But he 's at hand. ANARCHUS! what's the news?

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Man, if thou be'st a Babe of Grace,

And of a Holy Seed;

I will reply incontinent,

And in my words proceed!
But if thou art a Child of Wrath,
And lewd in conversation;

I will not then converse with thee,
Nor hold communication!


I trust, ANARCHUS, we all three inherit The selfsame gifts; and share the selfsame Spirit.


Know then, my brethren! heaven is clear;
And all the clouds are gone!

The Righteous now shall flourish; and

Good days are coming on!

Come then, my brethren! and be glad;

And eke rejoice with me!

Lawn Sleeves and Rochets shall go down;
And, hey! then up go we!

We'll break the windows, which the Whore
Of Babylon hath painted;

And when the Popish Saints are down,
Then BARROW shall be sainted!
There's neither Cross, nor Crucifix,
Shall stand for men to see!

Rome's trash and trump'ries shall go down;
And, hey! then up go we!

Whate'er the Popish hands have built,

Our hammers shall undo!

We'll break their Pipes, and burn their Copes; And pull down Churches too!

We'll Exercise within the groves;

And teach beneath a tree! We'll make a pulpit of a cart; And, hey! then up go we!

We'll down with all the 'Varsities!
Where Learning is profest;
Because they practise and maintain

The language of the Beast.

We'll drive the Doctors out of doors;

And Arts, where'er they be!

We'll cry both Arts and Learning down;

And, hey! then up go we!

We'll down with Deans, and Prebends too! But I rejoice to tell ye,

How, then, we will eat pig our fill;

And capon by the belly!

We'll burn the Fathers' witty tomes;

And make the Schoolmen flee!
We'll down with all that smells of wit;
And, hey! then up go we!

If once, that antichristian crew
Be crushed and overthrown,
We'll teach the Nobles how to crouch;
And keep the Gentry down!
Good manners have an evil report,
And turn to pride, we see;

We'll therefore cry good manners down;
And, hey! then up go we!

The name of Lord shall be abhorred!
For every man's a brother.

No reason why, in Church, or State,
One man should rule another.

But when the Change of Government
Shall set our fingers free;

We'll make the wanton sisters stoop!
And, hey! then up go we!

Our Cobblers shall translate their souls
From caves obscure and shady!

We'll make Tom T[YLER] as good as my Lord;
And JOAN as good as my Lady!

We'll crush, and fling the Marriage Ring

Into the Roman see!

We'll ask no Bands, but even clap hands;
And, hey! then up go we!


Heaven keep such vermin hence! If sinful dust May boldly choose a punishment, and trust Their own desires; let Famine, Plague, or Sword; A treacherous friend, or (what is more abhorred!) A foolish fair contentious wife, first seize

On our sad souls: than such wild beasts as these!


Surely, thou art a hypocrite!

A lewd false-hearted brother!

I find thou art a Child of Rome;

And smell the Whore thy mother!

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