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Some scatt'red flurts, with hideous Exclamation,
Thy Pamplet has at Excommunication,
Wherewith thou mak'st a rumbling noise, to scare
Such as thou apprehend'st unsettled are.
Thou talk'st of BULLS and Persecution too:
And with thy BULLS thou mak'st a great a-do.
Rome thou upbraid'st us with; but prethee whence
Had'st thou thy Bullish Term, if not from thence
Speak plainly, William, tell us, who thee hope
Unto that title [BULLS] unless the Pope.
Art not asham'd the Pope should thee so gull,
To make thee take a Paper for a Bull!
That whilst thou of a Paper wast a Treating,
The thought of Bulls strait made thee fall a Bleating.
Come, William, whilst thou writ such Paltry Trash,
Ne'er wonder, if thou sometimes get'st a Lash.
Thou knowst whose Back, the Wise man says, The Rod
Is for: Henceforth let Wisdom's Path be trod.
Leave thy Scurrilities; cease to Revile:
And, if thou wilt write, learn a more cleanly Stile,
Thy Language is most Loathsom: Take a tast
Thereof, in what thou in thy tenth page say'st;
[Hence Sixty Six, like Mercenary Judges,
Or rather like Self-seeking slavish Drudges,
By Satan led:] What Nasty Terms are these!
How Foul must that Mind be that this can please!
No question, William, but thou, at this rate,
May'st all the Scolds out scold at Billings-Gate!
As to thy Cavil, that what was prepar'd
By one, was past against thy John unheard;
Thy STORY's false: He had been fully heard,
And faulty found, as at Drawell appear'd.
But this same Cavil has before been brought,
And Answer'd fully in my Antidote,
To which I now refer thee, not delighting,
On the same ANVIL to be always smiting.
Thy Pamplet has at Excommunication,
Wherewith thou mak'st a rumbling noise, to scare
Such as thou apprehend'st unsettled are.
24
And with thy BULLS thou mak'st a great a-do.
Rome thou upbraid'st us with; but prethee whence
Had'st thou thy Bullish Term, if not from thence
Speak plainly, William, tell us, who thee hope
Unto that title [BULLS] unless the Pope.
Art not asham'd the Pope should thee so gull,
To make thee take a Paper for a Bull!
That whilst thou of a Paper wast a Treating,
The thought of Bulls strait made thee fall a Bleating.
Come, William, whilst thou writ such Paltry Trash,
Ne'er wonder, if thou sometimes get'st a Lash.
Thou knowst whose Back, the Wise man says, The Rod
Is for: Henceforth let Wisdom's Path be trod.
Leave thy Scurrilities; cease to Revile:
And, if thou wilt write, learn a more cleanly Stile,
Thy Language is most Loathsom: Take a tast
Thereof, in what thou in thy tenth page say'st;
[Hence Sixty Six, like Mercenary Judges,
Or rather like Self-seeking slavish Drudges,
By Satan led:] What Nasty Terms are these!
How Foul must that Mind be that this can please!
No question, William, but thou, at this rate,
May'st all the Scolds out scold at Billings-Gate!
As to thy Cavil, that what was prepar'd
By one, was past against thy John unheard;
Thy STORY's false: He had been fully heard,
And faulty found, as at Drawell appear'd.
But this same Cavil has before been brought,
And Answer'd fully in my Antidote,
To which I now refer thee, not delighting,
On the same ANVIL to be always smiting.
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