There sits the Clerk, and there the reverend Reader,
And there’s the Pulpit for the good flock-Feeder,
Who in three lamentable dolefull ditty’s
Unto their marriage-fees sing Nunc dimittis.
Here sits a learned Justice, truly so
Some people say, and some again say no,
And yet methinks in this he seemeth wise
To make Stypone yeild him an excise,
And though on Sundaies, Ale-houses must down,
Yet wisely all the week lets them alone,