I hold as fayth What Rome's Church sayth Where the King's head, That flock's misled Where th' Altar's drest That People's blest Who shuns the Masse Hee's but an Asse Who Charity preach They Heav'n soone reach On Fayth t'rely, 'Tis heresy What England's Church allows My Conscience disavowes; That Church can have no seame; That holdes the Pope supreme; There's service scarce divine; With table, bread and wine; Hee's Catholique and wise; Who the Communion flyes; That Church with schismes fraught; Where only fayth is taught; Noe matter for good workes, Makes Christians worse than Turkes.