depiction of an enthroned king  depiction of a skeleton bearing an arrow and a shovel, an image emblematic of death  
A REPLY TO A Young coxcomb. Who sides with a Couple of Old Fools: Or, An Answer to HOPKINS and STERNHOLD's Petition to the PARLIAMENT.  

YE scoundrel Old Bards, and a Brace of dull Knaves,  
What a plague makes you mutter and talk in your Graves?  
Sure ye drank in your Porridge like a couple of Sots,  
And have mixed the Spoon-meat with the Belch of the Pots;  
Or the Worms had by this time, if they had any Conscience,  
stopped the Tongues of those Fools who made David's speak nonsense.  
Ye writ, and be damned t' ye! Ye traffic in Metre!  
Why, a Bawdy house Tongs has a Voice that is sweeter:  
A White-Friars Sinner, or a Saint by Duck-Lane,  
A● Crowders-well Sonnet, or a pie-corner Strain,  
Has Raptures and Flights, full of judgement, and taking,  
When compared to the Things ye call Psalms of your making.  
shane on ye for Coxcombs, away with this Riot,  
And rot on like the rest who lye by ye in quiet;  
Nor dare to presume to petition and squabble,  
When there's none takes your Part but the ignorant Rabble.  
As for David, for God's sake, how dare ye to name him,  
When your wretched Translations so damnably shane him.  
Poor Psalmist! he frets, and he storms, and he stars,  
Bemoans his Composures, and renounces his prayers,  
Blushes more at the Dress which his Penitence hath on,  
Than when  told of his Faults by the Prophet Old Nathan.  
So changed are his Lines, and so murdered each Sentence,  
So debauched his GOD's Praise, and so lame his Repentance,  
That to know the good King by the Words ye create him.  
Is a Thing much more hard than it is to translate him.  
Let me tell ye, grave Dons, I'll be bold to assure ye,  
It is well that this warrior lies butted in JURT;  
Had he laid near the Place, which at present contains  
Of ye two sorry Sinners the stupid Remains,  
'tis a Pound to a Penny, but his Ashes would fly on,  
And handle your Skulls like the Bear, and the lion.  
But for fear I should dwell on the Subject too long,  
And the dullness I laugh at be seen in my Song;  
Lest the Muse should turn Jade, and, by Sympathy lead,  
Take part of the Scandal sh' has flung on the Dead,  
I'll no more of your Canting, and Whining, and Chiming,  
Your Elizabeth-Phrase, and your Farthingal-Rhiming,  
Brought in use as a Covert to Nonsense, I'll tell ye,  
As that Righteous Queen's Dress was to hid a great Belly.  
But though the loud Rabble should never deny ye,  
confirmed in their purpose, and resolved to stand by ye,  
Though the Poor Ones should murmur, and dote on your Sense,  
For want of due Thinking, and for want of the Pence;  
Though the stiff Parish-Clerks, with their Bands and their Gowns,  
red the New Psalms with Hums, and with has, and with Frowns,  
'Cause the Levites their Masters by chance are afraid  
Innovation should turn to a practise, and Trade,  
And by those means the Godly Wiseacres be driven  
From their Desks, and their Pulpits, their Sloth and their Heaven:  
Though the Stationers strive all they can to decry 'em,  
And Took swears that thousands of Old Ones lye by 'em:  
Though the late Version fails of the Spirit and Force  
Of DAVID's Rejoicings, or DAVID's Remorse;  
Yet I 'm not such a coxcomb' stead of New Psalms, to learn Old,  
Or to quit TATE and BRADY for Hopkins and Sternhold.    

London, Printed for John Wells, in St. Paul's Church-yard, 1699.