And goes for no more when 'tis took, Than mere saluting of the book. 210 Suppose the Scriptures are of force, They're but commissions of course, And Saints have freedom to digress, And vary from 'em, as they please; Or mis-interpret them, by private 215 Instructions, to all aims they drive at. Then why should we ourselves abridge And curtail our own privilege? Quakers (that, like to lanthorns, bear Their light within 'em) will not swear 220 Their gospel is an accidence, By which they construe conscience, And hold no sin so deeply red, As that of breaking Priscian's head; (The head and founder of their order,) 225 That stirring Hat's held worse than murder. These thinking th' are oblig'd to troth In swearing, will not take an oath Like mules, who, if th' have not their will To keep their own pace, stand stock-still: 230 But they are weak, and little know What free-born consciences may do. 'Tis the temptation of the Devil That makes all human actions evil For Saints may do the same things by 235 The Spirit, in sincerity, Which other men are tempted to, And at the Devil's instance do And yet the actions be contrary, Just as the Saints and Wicked vary. 240 For as on land there is no beast, But in some fish at sea's exprest, So in the Wicked there's no Vice, Of which the Saints have not a spice; And yet that thing that's pious in 245 The one, in th' other is a sin. Is't not ridiculous, and nonsense, A Saint should be a slave to conscience, That ought to be above such fancies, As far as above ordinances? 250 She's of the wicked, as I guess, B' her looks, her language, and her dress: And though, like constables, we search, For false wares, one another's Church, Yet all of us hold this for true, 255 No Faith is to the wicked due; For truth is precious and divine; Too rich a pearl for carnal swine,