That restless Fever, in the Brethren, Zeal;
In publick Spirits call’d, Good o’ th’ Commonweal.
Some for this Faction cry, others for that,
The pious Mobile fir they know not what:
So tho by different ways the Fever seize,
In all ’tis one and the same mad Disease.
Our Author too, as all new Zealots do,
Full of Conceit and Contradiction too,
’Cause the first Project took, is now so vain,
T’attempt to play the old Game o’er again: