Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate
  Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate,
  Bequeath’d by some legator’s last intent;
  (Such is our dying Saviour’s Testament:)
  The will is proved, is open’d, and is read;
  The doubtful heirs their differing titles plead: 
  All vouch the words their interest to maintain,
  And each pretends by those his cause is plain. 380
  Shall then the Testament award the right? 
  No, that’s the Hungary for which they fight;
  The field of battle, subject of debate;
  The thing contended for, the fair estate. 
  The sense is intricate, ’tis only clear
  What vowels and what consonants are there. 
  Therefore ’tis plain, its meaning must be tried
  Before some judge appointed to decide.

    Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant,
  The faithful flock some living guide should want, 390
  Your arguments an endless chase pursue;
  Produce this vaunted leader to our view,
  This mighty Moses of the chosen crew.

    The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired,
  With force renew’d, to victory aspired;
  And, looking upward to her kindred sky,
  As once our Saviour own’d his Deity,
  Pronounced his words:—­“She whom ye seek am I,”
  Nor less amazed this voice the Panther heard,
  Than were those Jews to hear a God declared. 400
  Then thus the matron modestly renew’d: 
  Let all your prophets and their sects be view’d,
  And see to which of them yourselves think fit
  The conduct of your conscience to submit: 
  Each proselyte would vote his doctor best,
  With absolute exclusion to the rest: 
  Thus would your Polish diet disagree,
  And end, as it began, in anarchy: 
  Yourself the fairest for election stand,
  Because you seem crown-general of the land:  410
  But soon against your superstitious lawn
  Some Presbyterian sabre would be drawn: 
  In your establish’d laws of sovereignty
  The rest some fundamental flaw would see,
  And call rebellion gospel-liberty. 
  To Church-decrees your articles require
  Submission modified, if not entire. 
  Homage denied, to censures you proceed: 
  But when Curtana[113] will not do the deed. 
  You lay that pointless clergy-weapon by, 420
  And to the laws, your sword of justice, fly. 
  Now this your sects the more unkindly take
  (Those prying varlets hit the blots you make),
  Because some ancient friends of yours declare,
  Your only rule of faith the Scriptures are,
  Interpreted by men of judgment sound,
  Which every sect will for themselves expound;
  Nor think less reverence to their doctors due
  For sound interpretation, than to you. 
  If then, by able heads, are understood 430
  Your brother prophets, who reform’d