or what serv'd him, to her was Sport.
_H----_, cloy'd with _carnal_ Bliss,
Longing to taste how _Spirits_ kiss,
Bids _Chapels_ for her _Saints_ arise,
Which are but _Bagnios_ in Disguise;
Where She may suck her _T----_'s Breath,
Expiring in _seraphic_ Death.

That _Satan_ better might succeed,
Of _other Agents_ he had need,
His _Country-Int'rest_ to support,
While _Dodd_ was _preaching_ to the Court.
The Town was left, and now his Flight
Bore to the _North_ the horrid _Sprite_;
Now had he travers'd many a League,
And felt, as _Spirits_ feel, Fatigue,
When, in a dark, romantic Wood,
In which an antique Mansion stood,
He spied, close to a Hovel-door,
A _Saint_ conversing with his _Whore_.
Double he seem'd, and worn with Age,
Little adapted to engage
In _Love_'s hot War, too dry his Trunk
To cope with a lascivious Punk;
So humble too he seem'd, You'd swear,
_Humility_ herself was there;
So like a _Sawyer_ too he _bows_,
You'd think that he was _Meekness'_ Spouse;
But _Satan_ read his _Visage-lines_,
And found some favourable Signs,
That this _meek Saint_ might, _in the Dark_,
Make his _Infernalship_ a _Clerk_;
Tho' muffled in _Religion_'s Cloak
So close, that it might almost choak
A _Pharisee_, it might be still
Only a _Cloak_ to doff at Will;
His _Speech_ might be an acted Part,
A Language foreign to his _Heart_.
He knew, that tho' upon his _Tongue_,
_Religion_, a mere _Cant-word_, hung,
He might forget it in his _Work_,
And be at _Heart_ a very _Turk_.

_Finesse_ and _Trick_ wou'd ne'er succeed,
If Men wou'd only learn to read,
To read the Lines of _Nature_'s Pen,
Drawn in the _Countenance of Men_,
Where Truth speaks out distinct and clear,
If we had but the Trick to hear.

So far'd it with _our Saint_, while He
Wou'd seem downright _Humility_,
Some honest Features cry'd aloud,
"Our Master is of Spirit proud."
Pass him with Bonnet on, his Lip
Will hang as low as to his Hip;
His bloated Eye its Venom darts,
And from its gloomy Socket starts;
And if the _Body_'s frame we scan,
He cannot be an _upright Man_.
And there are Proofs, from which we see
His _Body_ and his _Soul_ agree.
Altho' he is as fond of _Pray'rs_,
As Country Girls of Country Fairs;
Yet shou'd he