Thus they all part, the Parson followes close,
For well the Parson knoweth where he goes.
This seem’d a golden time, the fall of sin,
You’d think the thousand years did now begin,
When Satan chain’d below should cease to roare,
Nor durst the wicked as they wont before
Come to the Church for pastime, nor durst laugh
To heare the non-plust Doctor faigne a cough.
The Devill himselfe, alas! now durst not stand
Within the switching of the Sextons wand,