The minister was accommodated with a low stool, made
vacant for the occasion. Lord Monteagle, closing the book, abruptly
addressed his visitor.
"I knew thou wast in the neighbourhood, and I would unravel a few
arguments with thee; a few quiddities about thy profession. I know thou
art skilful at thy trade, which, though a vocation having its basis in
fraud, finding countenance through the weakness and credulity of
mankind, doth yet hold the commonalty in thrall and terror--a restraint
which none other scheme might peradventure impose."
"You are too harsh, my lord. I minister not to aught that, my
conscience disapproves. Being of the Reformed Church, I do not mightily
affect creeds and opinions. The Bible is the fountain, pure and
undefiled; its waters fertilise and invigorate the seed of the faith,
but choke and rot the rampant weeds of error and superstition."
"The Bible! A forgery: the invention of a cunning priesthood to mask and
perpetuate their delusions. Prove its falsehoods to be the truth.
Distinguish me thy revelation from the impostures of Mahomet, the dreams
of the Sibyls, and the lying oracles of Heathenrie.
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