Yet him the Butcher knocks down, and at length
We eate him up. A Turkie’s very gay,
Like worldly people clad in fine array;
Yet on the Spit it looks most piteous,
And we devoure it, as the wormes eate us.
Then full of sawce and zeale up steps Elnathan,
[This was his name now, once he had another,
Untill the Ducking-pond made him a Brother]
A Deacon, and a Buffeter of Sathan.
A man may love his brother