To dicing lords a cully favourite,
He prostitutes whole cargoes in a night.
Then to the top of his ambition come,
Fills all his sayls for hopeful Absalom;
For his religion's as the reason calls,
God's in possession, in reversion Baal's;
He bears himself a dove to mortal race,
And though not man, he can look heaven i' th' face.
Never was compound of more different stuff,
A heart in lambskin, and a conscience buff.