Some are resolv'd, not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.
What injuries soe'er upon us fall,
Yet still the same religion answers all.
Religion wheedl'd us to civil war,
Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd spare.
Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Int'rest's the God they worship in their state,
And we, I take it, have not much of that.