Religion Of Hudibras, The

For his religion it was fit     To match his learning and his wit:     'Twas Presbyterian true blue;     For he was of that stubborn crew     Of errant saints, whom all men grant     To be the true church militant;     Such as do build their faith upon     The holy text of pike and gun;     Decide all controversies by     Infallible artillery;     And prove their doctrine orthodox,     By apostolic blows and knocks;     Call fire, and sword, and desolation,     A godly, thorough reformation,     Which always must be carried on,     And still be doing, never done;     As if religion were intended     For nothing else but to be mended:     A sect whose chief devotion lies     In odd perverse antipathies;     In falling out with that or this,     And finding somewhat still amiss;     More peevish, cross, and splenetic,     Than dog distract, or monkey sick;     That with more care keep holy-day     The wrong, than others the right way,     Compound for sins they are inclin'd to,     By damning those they have no mind to:     Still so perverse and opposite,     As if they worshipped God for spite:     The self-same thing they will abhor     One way, and long another for:     Free-will they one way disavow,     Another, nothing else allow:     All piety consists therein     In them, in other men all sin:     Rather than fail, they will defy     That which they love most tenderly;     Quarrel with minc'd pies and disparage     Their best and dearest friend, plum porridge,     Fat pig and goose itself oppose,     And blaspheme custard through the nose.