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215

A new Catch.

This worthy Corps where shall we lay?
In hallow'd, or unhallow'd Clay?
Th' unhallow'd best befits him dead,
Who, living, from the hallow'd fled.
Then in the Vestry be his Tomb,
Since that he made his Drinking Room;
While to avoid the Common-Pray'r,
He soop'd off his French Pottage there.
But now alas! near Newgate thrown,
E'er Tyburn could obtain its own,
He's gone to sleep with Brethren blest,
In Baxter's Saints e'erlasting Rest.