But not yet charred, not yet so far consumed, One Richard Cholmeley, who declares to all He was persuaded to turn atheist By Marlowe's reasoning. I have wrestled with him, But find him still so constant to your words That only you can save him from the fire." "Why, Master Bame," said Kit, "had I the keys To hell, the damned should all come out and dance A morrice round the Mermaid Inn to-night." "Nay, sir, the damned are damned!" "Come, sit you down! Take some more wine! You'd have them all be damned Except Dick Cholmeley. What must I unsay To save him?" A quick eyelid dropt at Ben. "Now tell me, Master Bame!" "Sir, he derides The books of Moses!" "Bame, do you believe?-- There's none to hear us but Beelzebub-- Do you believe that we must taste of death Because God set a foolish naked wench Too near an apple-tree, how long ago? Five thousand years? But there were men on earth Long before that!" "Nay, nay, sir, if you read The books of Moses...." "Moses was a juggler!" "A juggler, sir, how, what!" "Nay, sir, be calm! Take some more wine--the white, if that's too red! I never cared for Moses! Help yourself To red-deer pie. Good! All the miracles You say that he performed--why, what are they? I know one Heriots, lives in Friday Street, Can do much more than Moses! Eat your pie In patience, friend, the mouth of man performs One good work at a time. What says he, Ben? The red-deer stops his--what? Sticks in his gizzard? O--_led them through the wilderness_! No doubt He did--for forty years, and might have made The journey in six months. Believe me, sir, That is no miracle. Moses gulled the Jews! Skilled in the sly tricks of the Egyptians, Only one art betrayed him. Sir, his books Are filthily written. I would undertake-- If I were put to write a new religion-- A method far more admirable. Eh, what? _Gruel in the vestibule?_ Interpret, Ben! His mouth's too full! _O, the New Testament!_ Why, there, consider, were not all the Apostles Fishermen and base fellows, without wit Or worth?"--again his eyelid dropt at Ben.-- "The Apostle Paul alone had wit, and he Was a most timorous fellow in bidding us Prostrate ourselves to worldly magistrates Against our conscience! I shall fry for this? I fear no bugbears or hobgoblins, sir, And would have all men not to be afraid Of roasting, toasting, pitch-forks, or the threats Of earthly ministers, tho' their mouths be stuffed With curses or with crusts of red-deer pie! One thing I will confess--if I must choose-- Give me the Papists that can serve their God Not with your scraps, but solemn ceremonies, Organs, and singing men, and shaven crowns.