Wolfes in Sheeps clothing why will ye,
Think to deceave God that doth see,
Your simulated sartinty.
For my part I doe wish you could,
Your owne infirmities behold,
For then you would not be so bold,
Like Sophists why will you dispute,
With wisdome so, you doe confute,
None but your selves: for shame be mute.
Least great Jehovah with his powre,
Do come upon you in an howre,
When you least think and you devoure.