 | Every Man in his Own Way |  |
Before King Harry (last of all the Name)
To good Queen Bess's Mother told his Flame,
What a mysterious Dress Religion wore!
What Crops of Superstition England bore!
Our pious Sires implicit Faith receiv'd,
Believing what could hardly be believ'd.
'Twas Sin to think their Bread compos'd of Flour,
Or Two and Two equivalent to Four.
Nor dar'd they reason in their own Defence,
For the worst Heresy was common Sense:
Or if they durst espouse the noble Cause
Of Nature's Right, and Truth's eternal Laws,
Bulls and Damnations thunder'd from the Press,
And curs'd as zealously as Christ could bless.
To good Queen Bess's Mother told his Flame,
15
What Crops of Superstition England bore!
Our pious Sires implicit Faith receiv'd,
Believing what could hardly be believ'd.
'Twas Sin to think their Bread compos'd of Flour,
Or Two and Two equivalent to Four.
Nor dar'd they reason in their own Defence,
For the worst Heresy was common Sense:
Or if they durst espouse the noble Cause
Of Nature's Right, and Truth's eternal Laws,
Bulls and Damnations thunder'd from the Press,
And curs'd as zealously as Christ could bless.
| Every Man in his Own Way | |