The Quakers Ballad: OR, An Hymn of Triumph and Exultation for their Victories, at the two late great Disputes by them held with the Baptists; the first in Barbican, on the 9th. the second in Wheeler-street, on the 16 th'. of the Eight Month, 1674.  
To an excellent new Tune, called, The Zealous Atheist.  

holy. holy  
holy. holy   


YE she-friends and he-friends whoever inherit  
Infallible light in darklanthorn of Spirit,  
Come prick up your ears, for behold! I will fit ye  
with an Hymn that is called by the wicked, a Ditty   

In the Scuffle we late have had with the Baptists  
Wherein both our honour and interest wrapped is,  
Though our logic perhaps be too weak to dispute 'em  
We hope by a Ballad at least to confute 'em.   

For though Fiddle & Organs are both Babilonish  
Where with the profane delighted alone is;  
Yet in such a case inspiration may haunt  
Even us which are perfect to warble a Chaunt.   

Then let us a while our tremble lay by,  
And quit our still Meetings to set up a cry,  
Le's challenge, and rant, talk loud and be bold,  
For the Spirit at present doth move us to scold.   

'Tis time to exclaim, as receiving the wrong,  
And take up that carnal weapon the tongue,  
For if we delay our whole party must sink,  
And our long-boasted light go out in a stink.   

Our juggle so plain will appear that each eye,  
Through the mask of our holy pretences will spy,  
And see that a Quaker, when stripped of his paint,  
Is nearer of kin to an Atheist, than Saint.   

Then let us equivocate neatly and lay  
A plausible meaning on all that we say,  
And the very same art that serves to excuse us,  
At once shall condemn all those that accuse us.   

This being done, we point time and place,  
And come full prepared to bandy the case,  
In the Barbican first we gave them a meeting,  
And never was seen such a Bear-garden greeting   

A Rabble thrust in from each end of the Town,  
And before half an agreement could be laid down  
In less time than a man can a pot of Ale swallow,  
'twas confirmed with a hoop, & denied with a hallow   

The place like an Hothouse appeared, and by hap  
Some Friends might be cured here of a clap;  
And if it were so I cannot but say,  
'twas the best effect of our meeting that day.    

The second part,  
to the same Tune.  
 

But once more have at 'em, for without doubt  
If we cannot confute, we must tire them out  
& therefore sent word they were cowardly lubbars,  
If they would not in Spittle-fields venture a rubbers   

Four hours and more we dispute in and out,  
To know what it was we should dispute about,  
Which yet at the last was never agreed,  
But no matter for that we resolved to proceed.   

'Twould have made puss laugh, or child in the crisomes,  
To hear us chop logic, and talk sylogismes,  
That spiritual canting of Nailor and s brood,  
Should Apostatise thus into figure and mood.   

To see holy seed so grand a designer,  
As to turn yea and nay into major and minor,  
Use language of beast Concedo or Pergo,  
And tickle their tobies at last with an Ergo.   

At first they came on like huffing Philistians,  
And needs would attempt to prove us no Christians  
When most by our wranglings, already thought much  
To believe that in truth either of us were such.   

All Dialogues we cried down as profane,  
Though divers of us had written in that strain;  
But that by a figure must be understood,  
Making things bad in others, in us to be good.   

But let friends take notice how basely they wrong us  
By suggesting a Papist God bless us, amongst us;  
For there was no need of that I must tell ye,  
Since each of us carries his Pope in his belly.   

Ourselves to be Christians we loudly declare,  
But avoid the contest to prove that we were;  
For we find that our interest doth better agree,  
To be counted Christians, than tru●y to be.   

Yet inveagled at last by a kind of a wile,  
We were draw● into what we had shunned all this while▪  
But still we we●e safe, though shrewdly put to't,  
For when all sh●fts fail inspiration can do't.   

To this than we fly though certain it be,  
Did Mahomet h●d as much claim to't as we;  
However it ser●es to ward off a blow,  
For who shall re●ute what no man can know.   

For if folks wou●d have wonders or miracles done  
We confess we can instance at present but one.  
That so many should Scripture and reason forsake  
And in our ridiculous whimses partake.   

but though in go●d form we would argue no more  
We went on wi●h bawling as high as before,  
For we knew th●t the crowd would the glory afford  
To him that spo●e loudest, and h●d the last word.   

To prove that w● did our Antagonist beat,  
'Tis enough for t● say that we made them retreat  
And charged them bravely when we had done,  
In the Rear with an echo, they run friends, they run.   

And to show that ●ur Ammunition of Lungs,  
Was yet not all s●ent, nor weary our tongues,  
After this we beg●n another new qu●●●●  
And fell all a Preaching in Rank and in File.   

Thus in brief a str●nge clutter we kept, and a stir  
But what good ca●e on't, if I know I'm a cur,  
Only people went ●ome, some sick, and some lame,  
But all of them ju●t as wise as they came.     

London, Printed for James Naylor.