Yet him the Butcher knocks down, and at length We eate him up. A Turkie’s very gay, Like worldly people clad in fine array; Yet on the Spit it looks most piteous, And we devoure it, as the wormes eate us. Then full of sawce and zeale up steps _Elnathan_, [This was his name now, once he had another, Untill the Ducking-pond made him a Brother] A Deacon, and a Buffeter of Sathan. [Sidenote: A man may love his brother] Truly, quoth he, I know a Brother deare, Would gladly pick the bones of what’s left here. Nay he would gladly pick your pockets too Of a small two-pence, or a groat, or so, The sorry remnants of a broken shilling; Therefore I pray you friends be not unwilling. But as for me, tis more than I doe need, To be charitable both in word and deed; For as to us, the holy Scriptures say, [Sidenote: but] _The Deacons must receive, the Lay-men pay._ Why Heathen folks that doe in Taverns stray, Will never let their friends the reckning pay. And therefore poure your charity into the bason, Brethren and Sisters eke, your coats have lace on. Why Brethren in the Lord, what need you care For six pence? we’ll one houre enhance our ware. Your six pence comes againe, nay there comes more; Thus Charity’s th’ encreaser of your store. Truly well spoke, then cry’d the Master-feaster, Since you say so, here, you shall have my tester: But for the women, they gave more liberally, For they were sure to whom they gave, and why: [Sidenote: Not better than himselfe.] Then did _Elnathan_ blinke, for he knew well What he might give, and what he might conceale. But now the Parson could no longer stay, ’Tis time to kiss, he cryes and so away. At which the sisters, once th’ alarum tak’n, Made such a din as would have serv’d to wak’n A snoring brother, when he sleeps at Church; With bagg and baggage then they gan to march; And tickled with the thoughts of their delight, One sister to the other bids Good night. Good night quoth _Dorcas_ to _Priscilla_, she, Good night deare sister _Dorcas_ unto thee. In these goodly good nights much time was spent, And was it not a holy complement? At length in steps the Parson, on his breast [Sidenote: Christian Liberty.] Laying his hand. A happy night of rest Reward thy labours sister: yet ere we part, Feel in my lips the passion of my heart. To another straight he turn’d his face, and kist her, And then he cryes, _All peace be with thee Sister_. To another in a godly tune he whines, [Sidenote: Nere a profane kisse among all these.] Deare Sister from thy lip Ile take my tines. With that he kist, and whispers in her eare,