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Thus they trim up their souls with holy words,
Shaving off sin as men shave off their Beards,
To grow the faster; sins, they cry, are fancies,
The Godly live above all Ordinances.
Now they're at home, and have their suppers eat,
When Thomas, cryes the Master, come, repeat;
And if the windows gaze upon the street,
To sing a Psalm they hold it very meet.
But would you know what a preposterous zeal
They sing their Hymnes withall? then listen well;
The Boy begins,
Go too therefore ye wicked men, To the
Tune of S.
Margarets
Chimes.
Depart from me [Thomas] anon,
For the [Yes Sir] commandments will I keep
Of God [Pray remember to receive the 100 l. in
Gracious-street to morrow] my Lord alone.
As thou has promis'd to perform, [Mary, anon forsooth]
That death me not assaile, [Pray remember to rise
betimes to morrow morning, you know you have
a great many cloaths to soap]
Nor let my hope abuse me so,
That through distrust I quaile.
But Sunday now good night, and now good morrow,Behold the
zeal of the
people.
To thee oh Covenant Wednesday full of sorrow:
Alas! my Lady Anne wont now be merry,
She's up betimes, and gone to Alderman-bury;
Truly 'twas a sad day, for every sinner
Did feast a supper then, and not a dinner;
Nor men nor women wash their face to day,
Put on their cloaths, and piss, and so away;
They throng to Church just as they sell their ware,
In greasie hats, and old gowns worn thread bare,
Where, though the whole body suffered tedious pain,
No member yet had more cause to complain
Than the poor nose, when little to its ease,
A Chandlers cloak perfum'd with candle-grease,
Commixing sents with a Sope-boylers breeches,
Did raise a stink beyond the skill of Witches.
Now
