a friend,
Thus from thy neck the shameful badge I rend.” 
   “Rend, if you dare,” said Dighton; “you shall find
A man of spirit, though to peace inclined;
Call me ungrateful! have I not my pay
At all times ready for the expected day? 
To share my plenteous board you deign to come,
Myself your pupil, and my house your home: 
And shall the persons who my meat enjoy
Talk of my faults, and treat me as a boy? 
Have you not told how Rome’s insulting priests
Led their meek laymen like a herd of beasts;
And by their fleecing and their forgery made
Their holy calling an accursed trade? 
Can you such acts and insolence condemn,
Who to your utmost power resemble them? 
   “Concerns it you what books I set for sale? 
The tale perchance may be a virtuous tale;
And for the rest, ’tis neither wise nor just
In you, who read not, to condemn on trust;
Why should th’ Archdeacon’s Charge your spleen excite? 
He, or perchance th’ Archbishop, may be right. 
   “That from your meetings I refrain is true: 
I meet with nothing pleasant—­nothing new;
But the same proofs, that not one text explain,
And the same lights, where all things dark remain;
I thought you saints on earth—­but I have found
Some sins among you, and the best unsound: 
You have your failings, like the crowds below,
And at your pleasure hot and cold can blow: 
When I at first your grave deportment saw,
(I own my folly,) I was fill’d with awe;
You spoke so warmly, and it seem’d so well,
I should have thought it treason to rebel. 
Is it a wonder that a man like me
Should such perfection in such teachers see —
Nay, should conceive you sent from Heaven to brave
The host of sin, and sinful souls to save? 
But as our reason wakes, our prospects clear,
And failings, flaws, and blemishes appear. 
   “When you were mounted in your rostrum high,
We shrank beneath your tone, your frown, your eye: 
Then you beheld us abject, fallen, low,
And felt your glory from our baseness grow;
Touch’d by your words, I trembled like the rest,
And my own vileness and your power confess’d: 
These, I exclaim’d, are men divine, and gazed
On him who taught, delighted and amazed;
Glad when he finish’d, if by chance he cast
One look on such a sinner as he pass’d. 
   “But when I view’d you in a clearer light,
And saw the frail and carnal appetite;
When at his humble pray’r, you deign’d to eat,
Saints as you are, a civil sinner’s meat;
When, as you sat contented and at ease,
Nibbling at leisure on the ducks and peas,
And, pleased some comforts in such place to find,
You could descend to be a little kind;
And gave us hope in heaven there might be room
For a few souls beside your own to come;
While this world’s good engaged your carnal view,
And like a sinner you enjoy’d it too;
All this perceiving, can you think it strange