My blood this day is very sweet,
To morrow of a bitter juice:
Like milk, 'tis cry'd about the street,
And so apply'd to different use.
Most wondrous is my magick power:
For with one colour I can paint;
I'll make the devil a saint this hour,
Next make a devil of a saint.
Through distant regions I can fly,
Provide me but with paper wings;
And fairly show a reason why
There should be quarrels among kings.
And, after all, you'll think it odd,
When learned doctors will dispute,
That I should point the word of God,
And show where they can best confute.
Let lawyers bawl and strain their throats:
'Tis I that must the lands convey,
And strip the clients to their coats;
Nay, give their very souls away.
XIII.
ALL of us in one you'll find,
Brethren of a wondrous kind;
Yet among us all no brother
Knows one tittle of the other;
We in frequent councils are,
And our marks of things declare,
Where, to us unknown, a clerk
