And tell men of the faults which they are in,
With hand and voice so following our theames,
That wee put out the side-men from their dreames.
Sounds not the pulpett, which wee then be-labour,
Better, and holyer, then doth the tabour?
Yet, such is unregenerate mans folly,
Hee loves the wicked noyse, and hates the holy.
Routes and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation,
And this is dangerous for our damnation;
Wee must not move our selves, but, if w’ are mov’d,