A PARALLEL BETWIXT POPERY and PHANATICISM, IN A LETTER to T. S.  
SIR,  

I'M informed, your Royal Jurat  
In ' lection was to be your Curate:  
I'm likewise told y'are disappointed,  
By Mandate from the Lord's Anointed.  
Your Congregation sure is Righteous  
That's worth the care of Charles and Titus.  
Titus and Charles had had more fitness,  
For Charles is second with a Witness.   

But since he failed, let fancy help it,  
And we'll suppose him in your Pulpit,  
Which would have looked, when he was got in't,  
Like an Dat-Meal Tub, with a PLOT in't:  
(To say who made the Plot, would rub,  
But sure some Cooper made the Tub)  
There might you hear him talk at once Sir,  
Geneva, London, Rome, and Munster;  
For all Religions in the Town  
Are cloaked in his Chameleon Gown.  
For as the Ancients used to scan  
Nine Tailors to one single Man;  
And others learnedly have writ,  
That thrice three Spinsters make one Wit:  
So he, though he lest them all in lurches,  
Is Product of as many Churches.  
Tho some affirm, when there's but Nine,  
That neither's due to this Divine:  
However, he's esteemed by some  
The mighty Bulwark against Rome;  
Yet others say with cause enough,  
His Girdle only's Cannon-Proof:  
Yet that's Defence enough for us,  
For he's all over Blunderbus.   

But Sir, since Arbitrary Power  
Hath useless made your Glass of hour,  
And laid Embargo upon O—  
By luck we have retrieved his Notes;  
Which since he was denied to preach,  
Took pet, and dwindled to a Speech.   

" Behold the double Saviour of your Nation,  
" Who daily preach and swear for your Salvation!  
" Behold the wicked Priest, and Jesuit-taker!  
" Behold the King's most excellent Oath-maker,  
" Who now comes down out of his endless Bounty,  
" To raise new Vicegerents for your County!  
" I have tried all Religions once, some twice,  
" Dived like an Indian for the Pearl of Price;  
" Walked like a Glow-worm by my Light within,  
" Have learned to eat my God, and stab my King:  
" Only I never loved the Quakers bawling,  
" For fear indeed they should have spoiled my Calling.  
" I with my stay at Omers had been shorter,  
" For they e'en used me like a very Porter,  
" To drink, and carry Letters; yet their steering  
" Mended my hand a little in my swearing.  
" At length in England's Church I cast my Anchor,  
" And there discovered all the Jesuit Rancour,  
" Ripped up the Plot, prevented the King's fall,  
" Saved the ingrateful Lawn-sleeves (Rascals all);  
" Sprung up some dozen of Ignatius Race,  
" Sent Stafford to his own uncertain place:  
" And when as one man they departed hence  
" With all the Oaths and Vows of Innocence,  
" I showed the World their Mental Reservations,  
" The Juggles of their Oaths and Protestations:  
" In short, I penned men's Faith to that degree,  
" They hardly would believe or them or me.  
" That Church hath been so trained with sense and reason,  
" They hate implicit Faith as bad as Treason:  
" Not that they doubt the Plot (for all their jeering,)  
" But 'tis for better Reasons than my swearing.  
" This mads my Soul; and I shall find a time  
" To make them fall, unless they help me climb:  
" With Oxford too I'm at no less defiance,  
" Who dirtily refused me her Alliance,  
" Till I could prove that Swearing was a Science;  
" Whereas the very posture of the Actor  
" Shows 'tis no Science, but a Manufacture.  
" There's ne'er a Gown-man but myself, I tell ye,  
" Without a Legion of Popes in's Belly:  
" Nay, in your godly Country're some Betrayers,  
" For there led like t' have been trapan'd to Prayers,  
" As if I'd nought to do but sing or say;  
" 'Twas but upon last Commination day,  
" The silly Rat had baited Hooks with Hooks,  
" Thinking to decoy me into Prayers with Books.  
" Besides, amongst all People but the Blades,  
" Swearing and Cursing are two several Trades.  
" But such an Infect in Divinity  
" Cannot deserve an angry Thought from me,  
" Who dare to grapple the whole Hierarchy.  
" Mind they their Trade, and canvas Paul and Luke,  
" I am above their Censure and Rebuke,  
" Nor do I fear their friend your Loyal Duke.  
" One single godly Speech of mine defied  
" Your Prince's Favourite, and your Country's Pride.  
" When I came rattling with a Coach and six,  
" King Coel's supreme Burgesses to fix,  
" I stumed the Mobile, and changed their Choices,  
" And stalking with their Ears obtained their Voices:  
" By which he sees (if Heaven do not forbid)  
" That I can undo all his Father did.   

But after all my most industrious searches,  
Sir Francis Draking, as it were the Churches,  
I find my subtle Masters told me true,  
They have no toppers of a Plot like you.  
At that, enraged, up starts a Loyal Youth,  
Quoth he, Sans swearing, thou hast once spoke truth:  
Th' Religion (if thou hast it) is profound,  
And thou art turned from Rome exactly round;  
Rome and Geneva are a sort of Twins,  
Sworn Sisters, and sworn Enemies to Kings:  
And for all you look so Protestantly big,  
You're still a Papist Masquerade in Whig.  
Phanaticism is Popery improved.  
Their bold Ignatius strikes to your Buchanan,  
Their Irish to your English Forty and One;  
Their Plots are bubbles to your late Intrigue,  
Your Covenant hath out-killed their holy League.  
A strange harmonious Discord there appears,  
Betwixt your darling Shibboleth, and theirs;  
Touch but their Strings, and all your Octaves shake,  
And though some ceremonious Jars you make,  
The Tybur disembogues into your Lake.  
So two false Gamesters quarrel when they meet  
A true, to blind and reinforce the Cheat.  
Ye both agree your Monarch to betray,  
Depose and Murder, though a different way:  
Both level your Church-Censures at the Crown,  
Ye both pursue the King; but this I'll own,  
They pitch your Game, you fairly hunt it down.  
So have I seen a Royal Stag erewhile  
Fall by your Hounds that hath escaped their toil;  
Nor must your Subjects fairer Quarter hope,  
Or from your single or the clustered Pope;  
They must be Slaves to which soe'er prevails,  
And either roast, or stink to death in Gaols.  
No Age nor Sex but must his Censures share;  
They dart anathemas, yet more severe,  
From their accumulative Porphry Chair:  
He, modest Man, but censures for your Faults;  
They damn for clothes and Gestures, yea even Thoughts;  
And all the Choice ye have, unless ye turn,  
Must be a Halter to avoid an Urn,  
As if 'twere better to hang than burn.  
Not only th' Ague, but all other Ills  
Are cured by th' Jesuits Powder, and your Pills,  
By which ye purged the Church, and scoured the Nation,  
In order to a thorough Reformation.  
Ye both assert with Apostolic Buff,  
Convince with Backsword, and with Pistol-proof,  
And ominous Sulphur make your Reasons tough:  
Their Faith in Absolution makes them sin,  
Yours in Election hath as fruitful been.  
For where's the difference, bating the Priest's Fee,  
That God forgives, or that he will not see;  
Not that your Friends will Damn for six Pence less,  
Ye spend in Capons what ye save in Cash:  
Your Basins, Tankards, Caudle-Cups, and Spoons,  
Turn to as good account as Duckatoons.  
The service of their Church, and of your Cause,  
Blanches the breach of all the sacred Laws:  
Ye deal with Oaths as Potters with their Clay,  
Ye take them by the lump, and then essay  
To mould them for your turn; if that won't do,  
Ye break'm straight, and fall to work with new.  
The only two that ever seemed to shame ye,  
Were theirs of Secrecy, and your Solemn Damn;  
Ye abhor Repentance both, even when ye die,  
And your last Breath is spent in Perjury:  
For who with more Astonishment can look  
On their St. Coleman, than on your St. Cook?  
The Saints are much alike for all their din,  
For theirs forswear the Fact, and yours the Sin.  
Ye're like a bad half Crown with one fair side,  
Whose loyal Stamp doth the base Metal hide,  
Th' other will own the Brass, and justisieed,  
But by your edges ye may both be tried.  
Hence Tories say, whether you rule the Isle,  
Or th' Jesuits, is only Cross and Pile;  
But CHARLES they say hath been too wisely bred,  
To venture them with's Cross, or you with's Head.    

Printed for E. Poole.