A RELATION OF A QUAKER, That to the Shame of his Profession, Attempted to Bugger a Mare near Colchester.  

ALL in the Land of Essex  
Near Colchester the Zealous,  
On the side of a bank,  
Was played such a prank,  
As would make a Stone-horse jealous.   

Help Woodcock, Fox, and Nailor.  
For Brother Green's a stallion,  
Now Alas what hope,  
Of converting the Pope,  
When a Quaker turns Italian.   

Unto our whole profession,  
A scandal 'twill be counted,  
When 'tis talked with difdain,  
Amongst the Profane,  
How Brother Green was mounted.   

And in the good time of Christmas,  
Which though the Saints have damned all,  
Yet when did they hear  
Of a damned Cavalier  
Ere played such a Christmas gambol.   

Had thy flesh, O Green, been pampered  
With any Cates unhallowed,  
Hadst thou sweetened thy Gumbs  
With Pottage of Plumbs  
Or profane minced pie hadst swallowed.   

Rolled up in wanton swine's flesh,  
The fiend might have crept into thee,  
Then fullness of gut  
Might have made thee rut  
And the devil so have rid through thee.   

But Alas, he had been feasted  
With a spiritual Collation  
By our frugal Mayer,  
Who can dine with a Prayer  
And sup with an Exhortation.   

'twas mere impulse of Spirit,  
Though he used the weapon carnal,  
Filly Foal quoth he  
My Bride thou shalt be:  
Now how this is lawful, learn all.   

For if no respect of persons  
Be due 'mongst the sons of Adam  
In a large extent  
Then may it be meant  
That a mere's as good as a Madam.   

Then without more Ceremony,  
Nor Bonnet veiled, nor kissed her,  
He took her by force  
For better for worse  
And he used her like a Sister.   

Now when in such a Saddle  
A Saint will needs be riding,  
Though I dare not say  
'Tis a falling away  
May there not be some backsliding.   

No surely quoth James Nailor  
'twas but an insurrection  
Of the carnal part,  
For a Quaker in heart  
Can never lose perfection.   

For so our 
* Hist. of Jesuitism.  Masters Teach us  
The intent being well directed;  
Though the devil trepan  
The Adamicall man,  
The Saint stands uninfected.   

But yet a Pagan Jury  
Still Judges what's intended,  
Then say what we can  
Brother Green's outward man  
I fear will be suspended.   

And our Adopted Sister  
Will find no better quarter,  
But when him we enroll  
For a Saint; Filly Foal  
Shall pass at least for a Martyr.   

Now Rome that spiritual Sodom  
No longer is thy debtor,  
O Colchester now  
Who's Sodom, but thou,  
Even according to the Letter.   

Help Woodcock, Fox and Nailor  
For Brother Green's a Stallion,  
Now Alas what hope  
Of converting the Pope  
When a Quaker turns Italian.   
FINIS.