Volume 1 — UPON FIVE PIOVS AND LEARNED DISCOURSES:

Rise, then, immortall maid! Religion, rise!1 Put on thy self in thine own looks: t' our eyes Be what thy beauties, not our blots, have made thee; Such as (ere our dark sinnes to dust betray'd thee) Heav'n set thee down new drest; when thy bright birth5 Shot thee like lightning to th' astonisht Earth. From th' dawn of thy fair eyelids wipe away Dull mists and melancholy clouds: take Day And thine own beams about thee: bring the best Of whatsoe're perfum'd thy Eastern nest.10 Girt all thy glories to thee: then sit down, Open this book, fair Queen, and take thy crown. These learnèd leaves shall vindicate to thee Thy holyest, humblest, handmaid, Charitie; She'l dresse thee like thy self, set thee on high15 Where thou shalt reach all hearts, command each eye. Lo! where I see thy altars wake, and rise From the pale dust of that strange sacrifice Which they themselves were; each one putting on A majestie that may beseem thy throne.20 The holy youth of Heav'n, whose golden rings Girt round thy awfull altars; with bright wings Fanning thy fair locks, (which the World beleeves As much as sees) shall with these sacred leaves Trick their tall plumes, and in that garb shall go25 If not more glorious, more conspicuous tho. ————Be it enacted then, By the fair laws of thy firm-pointed pen, God's services no longer shall put on Pure sluttishnesse for pure religion:30 No longer shall our Churches' frighted stones Lie scatter'd like the burnt and martyr'd bones Of dead Devotion; nor faint marbles weep In their sad ruines; nor Religion keep A melancholy mansion in those cold35 Urns: Like God's sanctuaries they lookt of old; Now seem they Temples consecrate to none, Or to a new god, Desolation. No more the hypocrite shall th' upright be Because he's stiffe, and will confesse no knee:40 While others bend their knee, no more shalt thou, (Disdainfull dust and ashes!) bend thy brow; Nor on God's altar cast two scorching eyes, Bak't in hot scorn, for a burnt sacrifice: But (for a lambe) thy tame and tender heart,45 New struck by Love, still trembling on his dart; Or (for two turtle-doves) it shall suffice To bring a pair of meek and humble eyes. This shall from henceforth be the masculine theme Pulpits and pennes shall sweat in; to redeem50 Vertue to action, that life-feeding flame That keeps Religion warm: not swell a name Of Faith; a mountain-word, made up of aire, With those deare spoils that wont to dresse the fair And fruitfull Charitie's full breasts (of old),55 Turning her out to tremble in the cold. What can the poore hope from us, when we be Uncharitable ev'n to Charitie? Nor shall our zealous ones still have a fling At that most horrible and hornèd thing,60 Forsooth the Pope: by which black name they call The Turk, the devil, Furies, Hell and all, And something more. O he is Antichrist: Doubt this, and doubt (say they) that Christ is Christ: Why, 'tis a point of Faith. What e're it be,65 I'm sure it is no point of Charitie. In summe, no longer shall our people hope, To be a true Protestant's but to hate the Pope.