The practice of his religion is, like the Schoolmen's
speculations, full of niceties and tricks, that take up his whole time
and do him more hurt than good. His devotions are labours, not
exercises, and he breaks the Sabbath in taking too much pains to keep
it. He makes a conscience of so many trifles and niceties, that he has
not leisure to consider things that are serious and of real weight. His
religion is too full of fears and jealousies to be true and faithful,
and too solicitous and unquiet to continue in the right, if it were so.
And as those that are bunglers and unskilful in any art take more pains
to do nothing, because they are in a wrong way, than those that are
ready and expert to do the excellentest things, so the errors and
mistakes of his religion engage him in perpetual troubles and anxieties,
without any possibility of improvement until he unlearn all and begin
again upon a new account. He talks much of the justice and merits of his
cause, and yet gets so many advocates that it is plain he does not
believe himself; but having pleaded not guilty, he is concerned to
defend himself as well as he can, while those that confess and put
themselves upon the mercy of the Court have no more to do. His religion
is too full of curiosities to be sound and useful, and is fitter for a
hypocrite than a saint; for curiosities are only for show and of no use
at all. His conscience resides more in his stomach than his heart, and
howsoever he keeps the commandments, he never fails to keep a very pious
diet, and will rather starve than eat erroneously or taste anything that
is not perfectly orthodox and apostolical; and if living and eating are
inseparable, he is in the right, and lives because he eats according to
the truly ancient primitive Catholic faith in the purest times.
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