Oxford Riddle.  

THere dwells a People on the Earth,  
That reckons true allegiance Treason,  
That makes sad war a holy mirth,  
Calls madness zeal, and nonsense Reason;  
That finds no freedom but in slavery,  
That makes lies truth, Religion Knavery,  
That Rob and Cheat with yea and nay,  
Riddle me, Riddle me, what are they?   

That hate the flesh, yet firke their Dames,  
That make Kings great by kerbing Crownes,  
That quench the fire, by kindling fl●mes,  
That settle Peace, by plundering towns,  
That govern with implicit Votes,  
That stablish truth, by cutting throats,  
That kiss their Master, and betray,  
Riddle me, riddle me, who are they?   

That make Heaven speak by their Commission,  
That stop Gods Peace, and boast his power,  
That teach bold Blasphemy and Sedition,  
And pray high Treason by the hour,  
Tha● Da●●●ll Saints but such as they are,  
Th●●●●sh ●ll Common, except prayer,  
That Idoli●e P●●, Bro●ks, and Say,  
Riddle me ▪ riddle me, who are they?   

Th●● to enrich the Common wealth,  
〈…〉 sport l●rge Gold to Forr●igne 〈…〉  
〈◇〉 〈◇〉 in Amst●rdam by stealth;  
Yet lord i● here within our gates,  
That are stayed me● ▪ yet only stay ▪  
For a light night to run away,  
That borrow to l●nd, and ro 〈…〉 y,  
Riddle me, riddle me, what are they?   
FIN●●   

Printed at Oxford by Leonard Lit 〈…〉 eld. 1643.