A View of the
Religion of the Town,
OR, A
Sunday-Mornings-Ramble.
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I.
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ON Saturday Night we sat late at the Rose,
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Carousing a Glass to our Wive's Repose,
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After our usual Mode;
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Till we drank so long,
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That Religion came on,
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For we were full of the God.
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At Pro and Con
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We held till One,
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And then we agreed in the Close,
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To let Wording alone,
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And Ramble the Town,
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To see how Religion grows.
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II.
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We began at the Church of Saint Peter,
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Whose Prebends make many Mouths water,
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Religion did here
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Like Grave Matron appear,
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Neat, but not Gawdy, like Courtezan Rome,
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Plain, but no Slut like you Geneva Dame.
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She hath on an old Stuff,
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With a Primitive Ruff,
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And round the Seam of her Vest,
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In Musick-Notes scrawl'd all or'e
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Loyalty express'd she bore,
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By which at her Church we guess'd.
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III.
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At the Tombs we did peep,
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Where the Kings were asleep,
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And the Quire melodiously Chanted,
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Without any concern,
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As we could discern
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Of being Be-Quo-warranted.
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And we fancy, at the last cast (Sir)
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When among the rest
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They come to the Test,
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Saint Peter will deny his Master.
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IV.
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Then shifting our Protestant-Dress,
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To the Royal Chappel we press,
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Where Religion was fine indeed,
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But with Facings and Fringins,
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With Crossings and Cringings,
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Entirely run up to Seed.
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Good God, what Distraction there reign'd,
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Where Union in Worship was feign'd!
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For I spy'd a poor Maid
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Just come to the Trade
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(For I fancy she was but a Learner)
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Who was but at most (Sir)
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Half through Pater-Noster,
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When the Prist was at Amen-Corner.
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V.
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Not an Irish-mans Breeches has half the Petitions
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We saw put up there for various Conditions,
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Sent to the bless'd Maid
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With Care and with Speed,
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And she soon had a Fellow-feeling
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For she was not far off,
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But got up aloff,
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Most curiously drawn on the Cieling
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By the Royal Command;
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Where Verrios great Hand
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(Such to the Saints is his Love)
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To the Virgin has given
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As glorious a Heaven,
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As that she enjoys and reigns in above.
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Whether like the Rogue drew her,
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They can tell best that knew her,
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Tho' most Men are apt to conjecture,
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When he drew the blest Maid
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(Moral Fancy to aid)
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His Mistress sat for the Picture.
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VI.
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Then, bidding Farewel to their Goddess and them,
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We put in at the Savoy, or New Amsterdam,
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Not to find our Religion, but to see some odd Sights
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To which Father Corkers Chappel invites:
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As in ours sometimes we plac'd Saints and Martyrs,
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So this Holy Room was surrounded with Traytors,
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In Halters there hung,
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Just so as they swung,
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Saint Coleman, and most of the Gang (Boy)
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And wa'nt it for something
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That's just next to nothing,
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Perhaps there had hung our new Envoy.
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