Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A95534
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A delicate, dainty, damnable dialogue. Between the Devill and a Jesuite. By Iohn Taylor.
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Taylor, John, 1580-1653.
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1642
(1642)
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Wing T447; Thomason E142_8; ESTC R212745
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3,320
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8
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A Delicate Dainty Damnable DIALOGVE Between the Devill and a Jesuite By Iohn Taylor LONDON Printed for I. H. for Thomas Banks 1642. A Delicate Dainty Damnable Dialogue between the Devill and the Jesuite Devill MY Deere Adopted Son since we are met And in our serious consultation set Let us contrive some stratagem most fit Our Antient Greatnesse and deep-searching witt Le ts lay such plots may make the World admire And ad more fuell to our endlesse fire Iesu An 't please your Gracelesse Maiestie to note That I with all the Brethren of my Coate Have been the truest Servants unto you Wee hold it Iust to give the Devill his due Wee have from North to South from East to West Survaid the World and wee have done our best In every Province Realme and Monarchie T' advance and raise the Papall Dignitie And raising That wee understand right well Wee doe enlarge your Antient Kingdome Hell Devil Though Truth and I did ever disagree Yet truth I must say that the Iesuites be My deerest Servants they have ever been My Actors and my factors soules to winne But now our Cunning is found out and crost And if wee look not to 't all will be lost Iesu Your Hellhood cannot taxe us Mighty Prince With sleepy idlenesse or negligence Wee have adventured oft in dangers deepe To lull the King of Christendome asleep We have made Spaine for us and Italie Poland and the greatest part of Germanie Hungaria Russia France all Catholikes Except a crew of wilfull Hereticks Such as will not by our perswasions come And be obedient to the Sea of Rome The House of Austria and great Bavarre With Brabant all our owne already are But Britaine Sweaden and the warlike Dane We seek their Ruine and they worke our Bane There is a Parliament in England now That all Romes Rights and Rites do disallow And sure the Scots with them so fast are Knitt That to the Pope they never will submit Wee have done all we could it plaine appeares To set them altogether by the eares And wee have us'd all meanes how to prevent All the proceedings of the Parliament We have sow'd false distrusts and iealousies Mad Tumults Libells base reports and Lies And over al the Land wee caus'd to flee Ten thousand Pamphlets all as true as Wee And yet we all as if our wits were Dull'd Are in our expectations meerly Gull'd For if we could that Parliament have broken Wee had done somthing worthy to be spoken But they are all in Vnitie so tide That all our plots can never them devide Which makes us now the out-cast scorne of men The Common abicts of each Pasquills Pen And as our VVisdomes have been highly priz'd VVee now are greatest Fooles and most despis'd Wherefore great Monarke of Eternall Night Direct and teach us to regaine our Right Inspire us with thy Rate Infernall skill And wee obediently will doe thy will Dev. I tell the Son that since the first Creation I still have wrought the Churches desolation The first man made I taught to disobey The first-borne his iust Brother how to slay Infernally I Sodome did inspire Which drew upon them Heavens consuming fire To righteous Lot I gave incestuous drinke Noah unseemly in his Tent did winke I tempted Corah madly to Rebell And hee and his were swallowed quick to Hell I had a wedge on Achan to bestow A Dallilah a strong man to o'rethrow In Ahabs Reigne I had Knights of the Post When Nabaoths Vineyard and his life were lost The Patriarks and Prophets every one And my chiefe Enemie Th' Almighties Sonne I persecuted to the death and I Have been the cause of all the Tiranny Inflicted on th' Apostles and the Ten First persecuions on so many men With Women Children as it plaine appeares In Histories the first three hundred yeeres I in the Marrian Time did Havock make In England Thousands were consum'd at stake The massacres in France I form'd and wrought And thousand Protestants to death I brought Two Henries Kings of France both murdered And William Prince of Aurenge pistol'd dead Duke D'Alva vex'd the Netherlanders too And Tiranniz'd as bad as I could doe The plot of eighty eight I did proiect A vengeance light on 't thad but bad effect And I the Powder Treason first did mint Although we had but scurvy fortune in 't These have I done and mischiefes millions more And yet I have not empted all my store Ies Great Emperour of Darknesse briefly then Seeke to confound the Scots and English men They are our greatest and our hatefull'st foes Of all our Enemies none like to those The Hollanders of Amsterdam or Delfe Their faith is much indifferent like my selfe As for Religion so it bring in profit Let it be what it will they thinke not of it Geneva is a little paltry Plot That hath all Romish duty quite forgot But Britaine is the Magazen of them That will tread downe the Papall Diadem Therefore against them all your forces call For if you conquer them you have won all Dev. My pen posts Libels my learned Scr. be I le set a work and I will fill with Bribes The hands of Iustice Gold shall cleare or bleare His eyes and stop her eares she shall not heare Suspitious Ielousies I le frame and fling Shall breed distaste 'twixt Subiects and the King That though they all meane well I le make a puther They scarcely shall beleeve or trust each other I in the Church will such division sow Which shall goe neere the Church to overthrow I le scatter strange Hreticall opinions In every corner of the Lands Dominions That those that see the madnesse of their Braines Shall thinke the Devill is in them taking paines Like Hidraes heads I le make complaints encrease That shall disturbe the King and Kingdomes peace In every corner I such strife will scatter That it shall seeme a Poole of troubled water Besides my Irish Sons the great O Donnell With his stout Kernes and noble stout Tirconnell These with great troopes of Rebells I will reare That shall disturbe and worke much michiefe there A Proverb saies He that will England winne He boldâ—y first with Ireland must begin And there already I have so begun That I doubt not our will will there be done Thus Fencer-like my aime and stroke is wide I strike at England quite through Irelands side Ies Could you make England like to Germany A Field of blood a Land of misery A grizly Golgatha of Dead Mens Bones An Empire wasted full of sighes and groanes Your plots and ours there twenty yeares have lafted In halfe that time all Brittaine may be wasted We of our holy Order have instill'd Such counsell into Cesars eares which fill'd His Royall heart with wrath his minde with error All Christendome with horror griefe and terror Bavariaes Duke we as we pleas'd did mold We drave the Palsgrave from Bohemias Hold For never Prince did our Enchantment hear But he was straight wayes ours through love or feare We are their Confessors we know their mind And at our pleasure can them turne and wind They doe confesse themselves to us and we Doe know their secrets and their Master be Yet though like Kings we rule and Raigne The King of Brittaine we shall never gaine He tearmes us vassals to the Romish Whore And scornes us as his Father did before Dev. Well since we cannot win him this wee 'l doe Wee 'l trouble him and all his people too And we have reason for 't for he of late A match with Aurange Son did consumate And his faire Daughter sure that marriage may Prove crosse to our proceedings many a way For if Nassaw had not led Belgias powers The Butter Boxes had long since bin ours Could'st thou have crost that Marriage thou hadst done A worke most worthy to be call'd my son Ies The newes of it amongst us was so bad At Doway and at Antwerp all were mad But could not hinder't there 's a power supernall That countermands our pollices infernall And since we cannot win what we intend Let us continually our forces bend That what we cannot gaine with care and toyle We may disturb vex ruinate and spoyle Dev. I le fill the Cinque Ports of the Isle of Man With mallice and with mischiefe all I can I will mens fancie with such humours fit They shall want time to thinke on grace or wit I le kil their loves and for it give them scornes That all shall kicke the man whom Fortune spurnes Fantasticke toyes within their pates shal gingle And truth with falshood they shal brew and mingle I le make the World of such an od condition I le turne it to foole feâ—ther or Physitian This can I can doe and take but little paine 'T is but to doe my old worke or'e againe So farewell Son let 's once againe begin To dee some mischiefe where we cannot win Ies I have a short complaint few yeares agon A Latine Annagram I look'd upon Against the Pope most knavishly 't is writ He read it and you can interpret it Supreamus Pontifex Romanus ANNAGRAMMA O Non Sum Supra Petram fixus Dev. This gives your Holy Father a shrewd knock It sayes he is not fixed on a Rock Let him fix where he can let 's make an end As long as hee 'l serve me I am his friend FINIS