Surely this sinne upon your heads must light.
And say, beloved, what unchristian charme
Is this? you have not left a legg or arme
Of an apostle: think you, were they whole,
That they would rise, at least assume a soule?
If not, ’tis plaine all the idolatry
Lyes in your folly, not th’ imagery.
Tis well the pinnacles are falne in twaine;
For now the divell, should he tempt againe,
Hath noe advantage of a place soe high: