Classic Poem

What's alwaies, every where, and all believe
Is truth, and onely truth, which can't deceive:
Where is't? unravel ages, all times read;
Since truth is one, why thus are none agree'd?
Schisms gilded weather-Cocks all must passe for gold,
While th' world truths lights doth in dark lanthorns hold.
Men to th' Meridian of their flesh and blood,
Religion Calculate; profit names it good.
See each Divine is but an Advocate,
As if Religion was a temporal state:
They with illusion, forgeries, for it plead,
And do't like Lawy'rs, onely to be fee'd
For what they plead, yet none can call their right;
They for Religion do without it write.
Witty impieties do the Scriptures reach:
Like the Tyrant who to's bed did wretches stretch;
Too long for cruel purposes, they slice:
Too short they wrack confession of their vice,
That truth can never vary, all agree:
Yet all place truth in their varietie.