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And liberty, and oft-times honour too,
To peculators of the public gold;
That thieves at home must hang; but he, that puts
Into his overgorged and bloated purse
The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.
Nor is it well, nor can it come to good,
That, through profane and infidel contempt
Of holy writ, she has presumed to annul
And abrogate, as roundly as the may,
The total ordinance and will of God;
Advancing fashion to the post of truth,
And centering all authority in modes
And customs of her own, till fabbath rites
Have dwindled into unrespected forms,
And knees and haffocks are well-nigh divorced.

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