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Ease was his chief disease; and to judge right,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his encrease :
Only remains this superscription.
On the new Forcers of Conscience under the
BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate Lord,
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhor'd;
To force our consciences that Christ set free, And ride us with a classick hierarchy Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ? Men, whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, Must now be nam'd and printed Hereticks By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call: But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent, That so the Parliament, May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears, And succour our just fears. When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large.