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83. On Romes Sacrifices.
It cannot be excus'd: It is a wrong
Proceeding from a too-too partiall tongue,
To say, The proser'd service of false Rome
Had no good favor, and did never come
Toth' gates of Heav'n; Fye, Rome's belyde;
For when our Troopes of glorious Martyrs dy'd,
In that warm age, who were their Priests? By whom
Was their blood shed? Was't not by holy Rome?
Such sweet Perfumes, I dare be bold to say,
Rome never burnt before, nor since that day:
A sweeter Incense, save his dying Son,
Heav'n ne're accepted since this World begun,
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