Canto 4.
LE LUTRIN.
35
Who should come in, but Girard the Bell-ringer?
And at his heels amain, Ribout the Singer?
No couple greater Bigots of the Chanters,
Against the Prelate none more desperate Ranters;
At the Dire sight though both did Sympathize,
Yet they advis'd his Worship to be wise!
Pray Sir! said they, for once be rul'd by Fools!
'Tis dangerous medling naked, with edg'd Tools!
'Tis ten to one the Prelate will Alledge
This fact of yours guilty of Sacriledge!
Nay who can tell but at the General Dyet
We may be Question'd, and Condemn'd of Ryot?
Call then a Chapter; put it to the Vote,
Let faithful tellers take the Poll, and note
The Ay's and Noe's; And if we carry't, then Sir!
Down goes the Innovation, once agen Sir!
This sage Advice repriev'd some little while
The trembling Pulpit: The Chanter feigns a smile!
Call then a Chapter! Run! Make hast! Away!
Summon the Drowzy Drones! Nay Pray you stay,
Quoth Honest Ribout the fam'd Chorister;
No more hast than good speed, beseech you Sir!
Rash actions often bring too late Repentance!
Girard was hugely taken with the sentence,
And seconds him: Great Sir! this weighty Business,
This Nice point will not bear Haste, or Remisness!
Perhaps the Chanters and the Monks may be
Awak'd, but did your Reverence ever see
Prebends and Canons before break of Day
Frequent the Chappel, there to sing, or say
Sursum Corda! Believe me, Sir! believe me,
I speak't with troubled Heart, the thing does grieve me,
When six bells jangling, for these thirty Years
Could never pierce their Barricado'd Ears,
And at his heels amain, Ribout the Singer?
No couple greater Bigots of the Chanters,
Against the Prelate none more desperate Ranters;
At the Dire sight though both did Sympathize,
Yet they advis'd his Worship to be wise!
Pray Sir! said they, for once be rul'd by Fools!
'Tis dangerous medling naked, with edg'd Tools!
'Tis ten to one the Prelate will Alledge
This fact of yours guilty of Sacriledge!
Nay who can tell but at the General Dyet
We may be Question'd, and Condemn'd of Ryot?
Call then a Chapter; put it to the Vote,
Let faithful tellers take the Poll, and note
The Ay's and Noe's; And if we carry't, then Sir!
Down goes the Innovation, once agen Sir!
This sage Advice repriev'd some little while
The trembling Pulpit: The Chanter feigns a smile!
Call then a Chapter! Run! Make hast! Away!
Summon the Drowzy Drones! Nay Pray you stay,
Quoth Honest Ribout the fam'd Chorister;
No more hast than good speed, beseech you Sir!
Rash actions often bring too late Repentance!
Girard was hugely taken with the sentence,
And seconds him: Great Sir! this weighty Business,
This Nice point will not bear Haste, or Remisness!
Perhaps the Chanters and the Monks may be
Awak'd, but did your Reverence ever see
Prebends and Canons before break of Day
Frequent the Chappel, there to sing, or say
Sursum Corda! Believe me, Sir! believe me,
I speak't with troubled Heart, the thing does grieve me,
When six bells jangling, for these thirty Years
Could never pierce their Barricado'd Ears,
What
