Mystical bedlam, or the world of mad-men. By ThoMystical bedlam, or the vvorld of mad-men. By Tho

Mad in themselves: for who but mad-men would forsake the fountain of living waters, ¹the word of truth, and pin their faith and salvation on the Popes sleeve? a Prelate, ²a Pilate, that mingles their own blood with their ⟨p. 70⟩sacrifices. Think how that enchanting cup of fornications prevails over their besotted souls; and you will say they are not less then mad. Come you into their Temples, and behold their Pageants, and histrionical gestures, bowings, mowings, windings, and turnings; together with their service in an unknown language, and (like a deaf man, that sees men dancing, when he hears no music) you would judge them mad. Behold the mass-Priest with his baked god, towzing tossing, and dandling it, to and fro, upward and downward, forward and backward, till at last, the jest turning into earnest, he chops it into his mouth at one bit; whiles all stand gaping with admiration; Spectatum admissi, risum tencatis amici? would you not think them ridiculously mad? But no wonder if they run mad; that have drunk that poison. Many volumes have been spent in the discovery of their madness; I do but touch it, lest I seem to write Iliads after our learned Homers.