The Parallel, Or a Comparison betwixt the Prince of Darkness, and the Children of Light, the True Protestants, and the Father of Lie. O All all you the Zealots of Country and Town, That in godly disguises walk up and Down; Whom Ambition, or Folly, or Madness inspire, To Sing, Curse ye Meroz, in Protestant Quire. That Invite one another by Tickets in Print, To dispute it by Claret and Arguments Dint; By Gammons and Pasties, and Joles, to Define Whether Crown should descend in the right or wrong Line. Whether Princes may Reign, unless Rebels permit, Unless Cooper's and Tapsters, and Upstarts think fit. Come hither, and Patiently hear what you Are, For of all things, you know not your own Character, And did you but know yourselves to be such, Neither Pope nor the Devil could fright you, so much As your own Images, yourselves would fright: So Cruel, so Arbitrary, so full of spite, That in each Lineament, of a Professor, You would Curse, and Cry out, of a Popish Successor. A Whig is old Lucifer in Masquerade, Old Satan and He, are both of a Trade: Both put on the shape of an Angel of Light, To Cheat and Cajole in a Garment of White; Only this differs, in Devil and Saint, One is the Life of Sin, the other Paint: The Devil can Cant and Whine, Pretend and Snevil, And Whigs are but Jack-Puddings to the Devil, He on the high Rope with a Pole does go, And in Chalk Jumps makes a more skilful show; While they with Hob-nail-Impudence pretend, Their Master's Feats, without a Pole to mend. He Apes the Saints, and They the Devil Ape, They change and barter one another's Shape; Only he cleaverly his Pranks does Play, Conceals his Art in Sanctified Array. They in Satanick dress the Devil outdo, And are the grosser Hypocrites o'the two. In Treason and Sedition both conspire, Both dress the Plots i'the same Hellish-fire. And may they both, defeated of their Aim, If neither Satan, nor his Imps Reclaim, Fry both together in that Rebel's Flame. London, Printed for Walter Davies, 1682,