The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy Prose and Verse [by Edward Ward] |
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Hypocrisy Lampoon'd.
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 | The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy |  |
Hypocrisy Lampoon'd.
The Church, tho such a sacred Place,
That no one should abuse it,
Yet many have so little Grace,
To very much mis-use it.
That no one should abuse it,
Yet many have so little Grace,
To very much mis-use it.
'Tis true, the Pious Christian goes
For Heavenly Promotion,
Prays for himself and eke his Foes,
With hearty true Devotion.
For Heavenly Promotion,
Prays for himself and eke his Foes,
With hearty true Devotion.
But where one minds the holy Truths,
Preach'd to the careless Hearers,
There's Twenty enter into Pews
T'encrease their sinful Errors.
Preach'd to the careless Hearers,
There's Twenty enter into Pews
T'encrease their sinful Errors.
138
The Miser never minds a Word
Of what the Doctor teaches.
But heartily implores the Lord
To multiply his Riches.
Of what the Doctor teaches.
But heartily implores the Lord
To multiply his Riches.
His Pray'rs are still for more and more,
His Piety's but shamming,
Nor would he part with half his Store
To save his Soul from damning.
His Piety's but shamming,
Nor would he part with half his Store
To save his Soul from damning.
The Courtier only goes to Church
That Ladies may delight him,
And always leaves her in the lurch,
When Int'rest does invite him.
That Ladies may delight him,
And always leaves her in the lurch,
When Int'rest does invite him.
The cringing Tool still tacks about,
Just as his Prince entices,
If good the Courtiers so, if not,
He Monkeyfies his Vices.
Just as his Prince entices,
If good the Courtiers so, if not,
He Monkeyfies his Vices.
139
The Trader occupies his Pew,
Amongst his drowsy Neighbours,
Because h'as nothing else to do,
When rescu'd from his Labours.
Amongst his drowsy Neighbours,
Because h'as nothing else to do,
When rescu'd from his Labours.
Or else to meet some Brother Tup,
Of whom he is a Lover,
That they may take a chir'ping Cup.
As soon as Church is over.
Of whom he is a Lover,
That they may take a chir'ping Cup.
As soon as Church is over.
The Country Justice, when he goes,
My Lady must invoke him,
But dares not say his Pray'rs, God knows,
For fear the Words should choak him.
My Lady must invoke him,
But dares not say his Pray'rs, God knows,
For fear the Words should choak him.
In lofty Pew he takes a nod,
Ne'er thinks of his Transgressions,
But whilst he should be serving God,
Is dreaming of the Sessions.
Ne'er thinks of his Transgressions,
But whilst he should be serving God,
Is dreaming of the Sessions.
140
The Farmer on the Sabbath day,
That plods to Church so early,
Three Miles perhaps, goes not to pray,
But know the price of Barley.
That plods to Church so early,
Three Miles perhaps, goes not to pray,
But know the price of Barley.
Or else with greasy hedging Gloves,
His hoary Head's befriended,
Then sleeping, snoars and never moves
Untill the Sermon's ended.
His hoary Head's befriended,
Then sleeping, snoars and never moves
Untill the Sermon's ended.
The Maiden Lady finely dress'd,
Quite thoughtless of her Duty,
Crowds only in amongst the rest,
To shew her tempting Beauty.
Quite thoughtless of her Duty,
Crowds only in amongst the rest,
To shew her tempting Beauty.
Her Glances here and there she throws,
To charm you and invite ye,
And seems devout to please the Beaus,
Instead of God Almighty.
To charm you and invite ye,
And seems devout to please the Beaus,
Instead of God Almighty.
141
The lewd Adultress brisk and gay,
Does put her Sunday's Face on,
Yet all the time she seems to pray,
She thinks of Copulation.
Does put her Sunday's Face on,
Yet all the time she seems to pray,
She thinks of Copulation.
In vain she vows her Life to mend,
If Heav'n would so dispose her,
But all the while her lustful end
In spite of Grace, says No Sir.
If Heav'n would so dispose her,
But all the while her lustful end
In spite of Grace, says No Sir.
The common Harlot juts along
Amongst the rest for Fashion,
In hopes to whisper, in the Throng,
Some am'rous Assignation.
Amongst the rest for Fashion,
In hopes to whisper, in the Throng,
Some am'rous Assignation.
Yet she can bend her Knees at Pray'r,
And stay the time of Preaching,
But then, fair Lady, as you were,
To Jilting and to Bitching.
And stay the time of Preaching,
But then, fair Lady, as you were,
To Jilting and to Bitching.
142
The Mourning Widow too can play
The Hypocrite with Vail on,
And most devoutly kneel and pray,
Tho 'tis but for a Stalion.
The Hypocrite with Vail on,
And most devoutly kneel and pray,
Tho 'tis but for a Stalion.
Bemoan the Loss of that dear Man,
Her lawful Spouse and Lover,
Yet ten to one she's kist again,
Before a Month be over.
Her lawful Spouse and Lover,
Yet ten to one she's kist again,
Before a Month be over.
The ancient Matron too repents
As Women think they shou'd do,
Not for her Sins, but she laments
She can't do what she wou'd do.
As Women think they shou'd do,
Not for her Sins, but she laments
She can't do what she wou'd do.
For Woman when beyond her Prime,
Her Sorrow chiefly rises,
Not from the Thoughts of any Crime,
But 'cause she's past her Vices.
Her Sorrow chiefly rises,
Not from the Thoughts of any Crime,
But 'cause she's past her Vices.
143
The haughty Lady cocks her Rump,
And moves to Church in Splendor,
Not to serve God, but shew her Pomp,
Attendance and her Grandeur.
And moves to Church in Splendor,
Not to serve God, but shew her Pomp,
Attendance and her Grandeur.
Arround she throws her awful Pouts,
Then kneels with so much caution,
That e'er she'll disoblige her Coats,
She'll hinder her Devotion.
Then kneels with so much caution,
That e'er she'll disoblige her Coats,
She'll hinder her Devotion.
To Church the Beggars move in Course,
For neither Pray'rs or Preaching,
Untaught, the Brutes are ne'er the worse,
Or better for their teaching.
For neither Pray'rs or Preaching,
Untaught, the Brutes are ne'er the worse,
Or better for their teaching.
Like Faggots in a Troop they serve,
And with the Church play booty,
Muster because they would not starve,
But never mind their Duty.
And with the Church play booty,
Muster because they would not starve,
But never mind their Duty.
144
The Rabble too, those monstrous Beasts,
Those unregarded Lumber,
Who bring small Profit to their Priests,
Altho they're great in number.
Those unregarded Lumber,
Who bring small Profit to their Priests,
Altho they're great in number.
Yet they must be religious too,
And Blessings will be craving,
Then Heaven knows that very few
Are worth its Mercy's saving.
And Blessings will be craving,
Then Heaven knows that very few
Are worth its Mercy's saving.
Thus Thousands on the day of rest,
Polute the holy Temple,
And only meet to pray in jest,
Sleep, ogle, and dissemble.
Polute the holy Temple,
And only meet to pray in jest,
Sleep, ogle, and dissemble.
For were the Lord's House to be lin'd
With none but pious People,
The Church the Parish Priest would find
As empty as the Steeple.
With none but pious People,
The Church the Parish Priest would find
As empty as the Steeple.
145
'Tis true, the Poor as well as Rich,
About Religion squabble,
But Int'rest always makes the Breach,
From Noble to the Rabble.
About Religion squabble,
But Int'rest always makes the Breach,
From Noble to the Rabble.
Thus all Men shew their Zeal and Heat,
And make a wond'rous Pother,
But most turn Hypocrites to cheat
And cozen one another.
And make a wond'rous Pother,
But most turn Hypocrites to cheat
And cozen one another.
| The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy | |