ANOTHER BALLAD: Called the Libertines Lampoone: OR, The Curvets of Conscience. To the Tune of, Thomas Venner, Or 60.  Written by the Author of the Geneva Ballad 

AS I examined my Conscience,  
All by myself;  
My head was full of Nonsense:  
After seven times turning,  
Worse than a burning,  
I found she was a Wayward Elf.  
Ceremonious Oaths, and humane Laws offend her,  
She's constant as a Weathercock, and as a Millstone tender;  
E'en such another Protestant, as the old Witch of Ender.  
Halloo my Conscience whither wilt thou go.   

Treason she says is Religion,  
Sacrilege Zeal;  
A Crow she calls a Pigeon:  
She tells you further,  
Plundering and Murder,  
Do Service to the Common-weal.  
Justice she esteemeth to be a very slow thing,  
Power Ecclesiastic, she reckons as a low thing,  
And for an Act of Parliament she counts it next to nothing;  
Halloo my Conscience, etc.   

A Nonconformist to please her,  
Lately declared:  
She's more a Prince then Caesar;  
Say what she will say,  
These fellows still say,  
She must and aught to be heard.  
Though Malice can corrupt her, and Avarice can taint her,  
Pride can blow her up, and Hypocrisy can paint her,  
And when Truth cries her down Sedition can Saint her.  
Halloo my Conscience, etc.   

Changes she can Ring a hundred  
More than are good,  
Else it might be wondered,  
In the mutations,  
Of these three Nations  
How upon her Legs she hath stood.  
For under the old Rumpers she was enforced to truckle,  
Cromwell and his Janissaries made her glad to buckle,  
And when the King came in, she got the trick to s●●ckle.  
Halloo my Conscience, etc.   

When Smec and the Independent  
Began to Clash:  
She could foresee the end on't;  
And as soon as the day  
First broke at Breda,  
She kept herself out of the lash.  
Although of the Surplice she never had a Rag on,  
Of all her nimble tricks, this she hath cause to brag on,  
She pitched upon her Feet when Bell fought with the Dragon  
Halloo my, etc.   

Quite from bending and bowing,  
She is declined:  
To Theeing, and to Thouing,  
Sects and persuasions  
All Modes and Fashions,  
Of every sort and kind.  
She was a Brownist lately, an Anabaptist newly,  
And then she fell to plainly, Verily and Truly:  
But errors have no end, and factions want a Thule.  
Halloo my, etc.   

Such is her intricate winding  
No Man can trace,  
She loathes to hear of binding:  
She's free and willing,  
Although it be by killing  
To run the Fanatic Race.  
He that can restrain her, may fix the stars that wander,  
Cure the fits of Jealousy, or gag the Mouth of Slander:  
Sail without a Rudder, and rectify Meander.  
Halloo my, etc.   

Drunk with the Doctrine of Tub men  
See how she reels,  
From Men of Law to Club-men,  
This way and that way,  
No man knows what way,  
Unsteadfast as Phaeton's Wheels:  
In Faith none more fervent, in Charity none colder,  
As fiery as Bucephalus, and then blind Byard bolder:  
She's too untame for Earth, and none but Hell can hold her.  
ay, I, 'tis thither, thither, she may go.   
LONDON, Printed for F. K. and Edward Thomas, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Adam and Eve in Little Britain, 1674.