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A59158 A pick-tooth for the Pope: or The pack-mans Pater Noster Set down in a dialogue, betwixt a pack-man, and a priest. Translated out of Dutch by S. I. S. and newly augmented and enlarged by his son, R. S. Sempill, James, Sir, 1566-1625.; Sempill, Robert, 1595?-1665? 1669 (1669) Wing S2495; ESTC R220992 14,443 31

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A PICK-TOOTH FOR THE POPE OR THE PACK-MANS PATER NOSTER Set down in a Dialogue betwixt a Pack-man and a Priest Translated out of Dutch by S. I. S. and newly augmented and enlarged by his son R. S. This pious Poëme buy and read For of the Pope it knocks the head GLASGOW By ROBERT SANDERS Printer to the Town and are to be sold in his Shop M. DC LXIX TO THE READER THis Present for the present I present To you good Reader with my smal addition The which to imitate is my intent To match or over-match were great-ambition I but enlarge it not surpass for neither I may can will dare parallel my Father I may not for I cannot reach unto it And though I could I will not enterprise it And though I would could might I dare not do it To dare were with disdain for to despise it My Parents Poëme only to express I press of new to put into the Press A CONFERENCE BETWEEN A PEDLER AND A PRIEST OR The Pack-mans Pater noster Which he learn'd in a Closter Whereof he sore repented And prayes it may be printed Not sitting for the Schools Yet School-master of fools A Polands Pedler went upon a day Unto his Parish Priest to learn to pray The Priest said Packman thou must haunt the Closter To learn the Ave and the Pater noster Pack-man Now good Sir Priest said he What talk is that I hear you speak but God in Heaven knows what Priest It is said he that holy Latine-letter That pleaseth God well and our Ladie better Pack-man Alace Sir John I 'le never understand them So must I leave your prayers as I fand them Priest Tush tush sayes he if thou list for to learn The Latine prayers rightlie to discern And sojourn but a little with me here Within a month I shal make thee parqueer Pack-man Parqueer said he that will be but in saying In words not sense a pratling not a praying Shal I Sir Iohn a man of perfect age Pray like an idle Parret in a cage Priest A Parret can but pratle for her part But towards God hath neither hand nor heart Pack-man And seeing I have head and heart to pray Should not my heart know what my tongue doth say For when my tongue talks if mine heart miscary How quickly may I mar your Ave Mary And I Sir having many things to seek How shal I speed not knowing what I speak Priest Because that God all tongues doth understand Yea knows thy very thoughts before the hand Pack-man Then if I think one thing and speak another I will both crab Christ and our Ladie his mother For when I pray for making up my pack man Your Ave Mary is not worth a plack man Priest Thy Latine prayers are but general heads Containing every special that thou needs The Latine serves us for a Liturgie As Med'ciners direct the Chirurgie And in this language Mass is said and sung For private things pray in thy mother tongue Pack-man Then must I have a tongue Sir John for either One for the Mother another for the Father Priest Thinks thou the Mother doth not know such smal things Christ is her Son man and he tells her all things Pack-man But good Sir John where learnd our Lady her Latines For in her dayes were neither Mass nor Matines Nor yet one Priest that Latine then did speak For holy words were then all Hebrew and Greek She never was at Rome nor kist Popes toe How came she by the Mass then would I kno Priest Pack-man if thou believe the Legendary The Mass is elder far then Christ or Mary For all the Patriarchs both more and less And great Melchisedeck himself said Mass. Pack-man But good Sir John spake all these Fathers Latine And said they Mass in Surplices and Satine Could they speak Latine long ere Latine grew And without Latine no Mass can be true And as for Hereticks that now translate it False miscreants they shame the Mass and state it Priest Well Pack-man faith thou art too curious Thy spur blind zeal fervent but furious I 'd rather teach a whole Coven of Monks Then such a Pack-man with his Puritane spunks This thou must know that cannot be deny'd Rome reign'd over all when Christ was crucify'd Rome Ethnick then but afterwards converted And grew so honest and so holy hearted That now her Emp'ror is turn'd in our Pope His Holiness as you have heard I hope He made a Law that all the world should pray In Latine Language to the Lord each day And this in our Traditions you may try Which if you list to read and shal espy The Pope to be Christs Vicar sole and sure And to the worlds end will so endure Pack man Surely this purpose puts me far aback And hath mo points then pins in all my pack What ever power you give to your Pope He may not make a man an Ape I hope R. S. But good Sir John before we further go Resolve me this since you assail me so How when and where this Vicarage befell Unto your Pope I pray you briefly tell Priest Know you not Peter when he went to Rome He there was execute which was his doom And in his latter will and Legacy At Rome he left his full Supremacy Unto the Pope which Legacy was given By Christ to Peter when he went to heaven And so the Pope though mediatly indeed By Peter Christs sole Vicar doth succeed And every Pope sensyne from race to race Succeeds each other in the Papal place Pack-man By your assertion surely I perceive You press to prove that Peter then did leave Such Legacy to those who did him murther Think ye such fond cōceats your cause can further That 's but a very falsly forged fiction And proves most for your Romish whoors cōviction For Rome did falsly fall from Peters faith And Burreo-like bereft him of his breath And so your Pope doth merit no preferment But as an Hang-man Peters upper garment And still Sir John ye strive to play the knave Affirming falsly Peter did receive His Primacy from Christ when thus he spoke That he would build his Church upon that Rock As if on Peter Christ had only founded His holy Church for ever to be grounded To wrest the Scripture is your whole pretence Either into an ill or double sense Christ built his Church on Peters pure profession And on the solide Rock of his confession That he was Christ which is a firm foundation Against all Romish-Popish inundation I sory am to see you so unwise For Peter after that deny'd Christ thrice Christ built his Church on faith which byds a tryal And not upon poor Peters thrise denyal On this a friend of mine did make a Sonet A pretty one if I could light upon it Lo here it is and in it ye may read How your proud Pope to Peter doth succeed Why should profane proud Papists thus presume To say their Pope to