Quaker

Is a scoundrel saint, of an Order without Founder, Vow, or Rule ; for he will not swear, nor be tyed to any Thing, but his own Humour. He is the Link-Boy of the sectaries, and talks much of his Light, but puts it under a Bushel, for nobody can see it but himself. His Religion is but the cold Fit of an Ague, and his Zeal of a contrary Temper to that of all others, yet produces the same Effects ; as cold Iron in Greenland, they say, burns as well as hot; which makes him delight, like a salamander, to live in the Fire of Persecution. He works out his salvation, not with Fear, but Confidence and Trembling. His Profession is but a Kind of Winter-Religion ; and the Original of it as uncertain as the hatching of Woodcocks, for no Man can tell from whence it came. He Vapours much of the Light within him, but no such Thing appears, unless he means as he is light-headed. He believes he takes up the Cross in being cross to all Mankind. He delights in Persecution, as some old extravagant Fornicators find a Lechery in being whipt; and has no Ambition but to go to Heaven in what he calls a fiery Chariot, that is, a Woodmonger’s Faggot Cart. You may perceive he has a Crack in his skull by the flat Twang of his Nose, and the great Care he takes to keep his Hat on, lest his sickly Brains, if he have any, should take Cold at it. He believes his Doctrine to be heavenly, because it agrees perfectly with the Motus Trepidationis. All his Hopes are in the Turks overrunning of Christendom, because he has heard they count Fools and Madmen saints, and doubts not to pass muster with them for great Abilities that Way. This makes him believe he can convert the Turk, tho’ he could do no good on the Pope, or the Presbyterian. Nothing comes so near his quaking Liturgy, as the Papistical Possessions of the Devil, with which it conforms in Discipline exact. His Church, or rather Chapel, is built upon a flat sand, without superior or inferior in it, and not upon a Rock, which is never found without great Inequalities. Next Demoniacs he most resembles the Reprobate, who are said to be condemned to Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth. There was a Botcher of their Church, that renounced his Trade and turned Preacher, because he held it superstitious to sit cross-legged. His Devotion is but a Kind of spiritual Palsy, that proceeds from a Distemper in the Brain, where the Nerves are rooted. They abhor the Church of England, but conform exactly with those primitive Fathers of their Church, that heretofore gave Answers at the Devil’s Oracles, in which they observed the very same Ceremony of quaking and and gaping now practised by our modern Enthusiasts at their Exorcisms, rather than Exercises of Devotion. He sucks in the Air like a Pair of Bellows, and blows his inward Light with it, till he dung Fire, as Cattle do in Lincolnshire. The general Ignorance of their whole Party make it appear, that whatsoever their Zeal may be, it is not according to Knowledge.