[W]ee would that the voice and dialect of the propheteſſe Pythia, reſembling the ſpeech of a Chorus in a tragedie from a ſcaffold, ſhould pronounce her anſwers not in ſimple, plaine, and triviall termes, without any grace to ſet them out, but with Poeticall magnificence of high and ſtately verſes, diſguiſed as it were with metaphors and figurative phraſes, yea, and that which more is, with ſound of flute and hautboies: […]

Put case that the soul after the departure from the body may live.

I looked all over, but all the seats are already spoken for.

[…] but then the prostitutes of the plute press are always cunning flunkeys of the Most High.