Note (return) — Chapter VII
Reading edition
An extempore Poem on parson Adams. Did ever mortal such a parson view? His cassock old, his wig not over-new, Well might the hounds have him for fox mistaken, In smell more like to that than rusty bacon 3; But would it not make any mortal stare To see this parson taken for a hare? Could Phoebus err thus grossly, even he For a good player might have taken thee.