Classic Poem

The barbr'ous Turkes, are Men of the long robe;
Yet on the surface of the earthly globe,
Scarce any Nation is,
So ignorant as this.
Nor is there any wickedness so foule,
As that which lyes beneath the holy cowle:
But still wee must except the Jesuites cloke,
Which large enough is to become a poke,
For Iliad's of evills,
And bee th'Asyle of Devills.
For Mischiefe no where doth so safely lye,
As underneath the veyle of sanctitye:
A Spanish ruffe, or a Venetian vest,
Of gravity, may seeme the very nest
But Pandares, Whores, and Night
Can easily recite,
Strange tales, concerning These, who wont to use
The Counsell Hall by day, by night the stewes:
Man is what Hee doth least appeare:
On earth, an arrant Cousener:
But God shall him unrippe (at the last day)
And all his secret villanyes display