in the Church-yard spy
Some _tempting Wanton_ passing by,
E'en at the Moment that his Knee
Is bent in Sign of _Piety_,
Quick his _Devotion_ leaves the _Heart_,
And settles in some _other Part_;
The Book of _Pray'r_ is shut, and _Heav'n_
For the dear Charms of _Coelia_ giv'n.

Th' _Arch-Fiend_ this _saintly Sinner_ spied,
And with malicious Pleasure ey'd,
Well pleas'd to think that he had found
Such a _Hell-Factor_ above Ground;
And thus began th' infernal Sprite--
"_Libidinoso!_ if I'm right!
Art thou that Son of mine on Earth,
Whose deeds so loud proclaim thy Birth?
Of whom so many Strumpets tell
Such Tales as get Thee Fame in _Hell_?
But Children know not whence they spring,
Whether by Beggar got, or King;
Yet I by _certain Marks_ can know,
Whether Thou art _my Child_, or no.
Uncase--and let me see your Waist--
For there are private Tokens plac'd,
By which _my own_ I know--if there
No secret Lines of mine appear,
I claim Thee not--but if I see
The two _Initials_ _F_ and _P_,
Then art Thou _mine_--nay, never start--
And _Heav'n_ can claim _in Thee_ no Part"--

And now his sapless Trunk he stripp'd,
Like Culprits sentenc'd to be whipp'd,
When lo! th' _Initials_ rose to View,
And prov'd the Fiend's Conjecture true.
And all his Waist (detested Brand!)
Was scribbled with the _Dev'l's short Hand_;
Was mark'd with _Whoredom_, _Lust_, and _Letchery_,
_Malice_, _Hypocrisy_, and _Treachery_,
With _Envy_, _Lying_, and _Betraying_,
With _Fasting_, _Wenching_, _Fiddling_, _Praying_,
And all the _Catalogue of Sin_
Deeply engraven in his Skin--
Pleas'd the _grim Pow'r_ survey'd, and smil'd,
Embrac'd and said--"My darling Child,
Blest was the Hour, and blest the Spot,
Where Thou, _my 'Bidin_, wert begot.
Know then, you're not what You profess,
Her Son, whose Lands you do possess;
No--Thou'rt _my wayward Son_, a Witch
Litter'd thee in a loathsome Ditch;
And (for all Creatures love the Young
Which from their proper Loins are sprung)
To this old Mansion thee convey'd,
And in an Infant's Cradle laid:
And when the _Sorc'ress_ plac'd thee there,
She stole away the _native Heir_--
Right well hast Thou, my Boy, repaid
The _Obligations_ on thee laid,
And to thy Parents' Int'rest true
Has