He sat and seem'd as in his study's chair;
For while the anthem swell'd, and when it ceased,
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Th' expecting people view'd their slumbering priest:
Who, dozing, died.—Our Parson Peele was next;
'I will not spare you,' was his favourite text;
Nor did he spare, but raised them many a pound;
Ev'n me he mulct for my poor rood of ground;
Yet cared he nought, but with a gibing speech,
'What should I do,' quoth he, 'but what I preach?'