He viewes the nimphes, and is quite out in ’s prayer. Oft hath a Sister, grownded in the truth, Seeing the jolly carriage of the youth, Bin tempted to the way that’s broad and bad; And (wert not for our private pleasures) had Renounc’t her little ruffe, and goggle eye, And quitt her selfe of the Fraternity. What is the mirth, what is the melody, That setts them in this Gentiles vanity? When in our sinagogue wee rayle at sinne, And tell men of the faults which they are in, With hand and voice so following our theames, That wee put out the side-men from their dreames. Sounds not the pulpett, which wee then be-labour, Better, and holyer, then doth the tabour? Yet, such is unregenerate mans folly, Hee loves the wicked noyse, and hates the holy. Routes and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation, And this is dangerous for our damnation; Wee must not move our selves, but, if w’ are mov’d, Man is but man; and therefore those that lov’d Still to seeme good, would evermore dispence With their owne faults, so they gave no offence. If the times sweete entising, and the blood That now begins to boyle, have thought it good To challenge Liberty and Recreation, Let it be done in holy contemplation: Brothers and Sisters in the feilds may walke, Beginning of the Holy Worde to talke, Of David, and Uriahs lovely wife, Of Thamar, and her lustfull brothers strife; Then, underneath the hedge that woos them next, They may sitt down; and there act out the text. Nor do wee want, how ere wee live austeere, In winter Sabbath-nights our lusty cheere; And though the pastors grace, which oft doth hold Halfe an howre long, make the provision cold, Wee can be merry; thinking ’t nere the worse To mend the matter at the second course. Chapters are read, and hymnes are sweetly sung, Joyntly commanded by the nose and tongue; Then on the Worde wee diversly dilate, Wrangling indeed for heat of zeale, not hate: When at the length an unappeased doubt Feircely comes in, and then the light goes out; Darkness thus workes our peace, and wee containe Our fyery spiritts till we see againe. Till then, no voice is heard, no tongue doth goe, Except a tender Sister shreike, or so. Such should be our delights, grave and demure, Not so abominable, not so impure, As those thou seek’st to hinder, but I feare Satan will bee too strong; his kingdome’s here: Few are the righteous now, nor do I know How wee shall ere this idoll overthrow; Since our sincerest patron is deceas’t, The number of the righteous is decreast. But wee do hope these times will on, and breed A faction mighty for us; for indeede Wee labour all, and every Sister joynes To have regenerate babes spring from our loynes: Besides, what many carefully have done,