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False-Seeming eyed he o’er right well,

Yet nought could he his falseness tell,

For wondrously was he disguised,

Nor lightly might be recognised;

And whosoe’er the knave had known

Before this garb were o’er him thrown,

Had sworn by God the Father he

The same one were who formerly

Bold Robin, in the dance, had been,

And now as Jacobin is seen.

But then, deny it whoso can,

Each Jacobin’s an honest man.

That holy order great disgrace

Would suffer, if therein found place

A charlatan. And Carmelites,

And Cordeliers and holy wights

Of other orders, whether they be

Big-bellied churls or lean, pardee,

As wolves, not one, where’er he wone,

But for a saint by dress is known,

But ne’er we seeming should permit

To o’erride sense or govern it.

If you such subtlety possess

As lightly shatters sophistries,

Whate’er the argument appear

Upon the face of it, look near

And closely for some fallacy

Lest you thereby deceived be.

When now the pilgrims twain were come

Where Evil-Tongue had made his home,

Their harness fain were they to flit

From off them and beside him sit.