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A01890 Babels balm: or The honey-combe of Romes religion With a neate draining and straining-out of the rammish honey thereof. Sung in tenne most elegant elegies in Latine, by that most worthy Christian satyrist, Master George Good-vvinne. And translated into tenne English satyres, by the Muses most vnworthy Eccho, Iohn Vicars.; Melissa religionis pontificiae. English Goodwin, George, fl. 1607-1620.; Vicars, John, 1579 or 80-1652. 1624 (1624) STC 12030; ESTC S103245 56,801 130

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And like a Martiall Priest with two Swords fights Thus Popes permission out-laws Lawes most iust And Canons when hee lists Canons forth thrust Thus Cai'phas calls blacke white wrong right and still All gaine is good and Lawfull what Hee will Thus Rome runs-ore with Wanes of Wickednesse Though Gods wise Steward dwell there ne'rethelesse Thus Pro-Christ Procrust that rate Theefe is like To Christs true Tipe and Pattern most vnlike Thus Hee Christs Worke promoues by slaughters fly With sitting still a Stocke Blocke Dullard dry Thus Hee sels Smoake and turnes his Lead to Gold Thus finally Hee robbeth Christs Sheep-fold Is not this Prophet thinke you from God sent Yes sure as Night doth Day-light represent OF THE HOLY RELIQVES TRADITIONS AND OTHER ADMIRABLE INVENTIONS OF THE CHVRCH OF ROME THE TENTH SATYRE The ARGVMENT O how the Pope loues pretty pranckes and toyes How Peter-Priests and Mitred-Men Him ioyes NOw full fraught Legions and prodigious Bands Of Romes Patrician hasten to our Hands find Whose pregnant Whore doth Rags and Reliques The Vniuerse with trifling toyes to blinde Looke at and laugh at the fond Fantasies This Fabling-Father meanes to Moralize Hee 'l shew you many Nailes if truth ha'nt faild Wherewith Christs Hands and Feete to th' Crosse were naild And of Christs Crosse a pretty peece not rotten Which pregnant Peece hath thousands more begotten Why doe they not the Thornes Nailes many more And as the Crosse Longinus Launce adore Gau'st thou O Christ the Church thy Spouse sure prizes Her Dow'ry sure was no such Marchandizes Traditions Caucasus so huge is growne That Hi● great growth thy Church hath nigh o'rethrown Romes deepe-learn'd Doctours in Diuinitie Make th●se Religions firme Profundity Traditions Pillars prop Romes Papall Power These fortifie her gorgeous high-top'd Tower Much honour hence hath Romes great Grand-Sire got And of this Mould hath made a glistering Pot. But by the dismall-doctrines which he preacheth Hee is Gods Traito●r and Himselfe ore-reacheth Traditions gastly Gorgons hee proiects And by these rockey-Rockey-Rules Mens Faith infects Vnwrit Decrees Hee with gods-Gods-Word compares Yea them preferre 'fore Gods Hand-writing dares A meere Inck-Doctour hee is held most fit Which knowes and showes nothing but Pen-mens writ With these poore shreds this Latine Bishop frames A Fig-leafe Coat to hide his Whorish shames But I Traditions loathsome Lees most vaine Spu'd from Romes Nauseus-Maw spue-vp againe The Scriptures saith Hee are not Faiths Foundation Traditions are Faiths Basis Propagation Scripture is not Faiths Prop Mai●-Mast Chiefe-Poste Truths Horologe Rule Canon Guiding-Coaste Nor was Gods Word giuen as Faiths guiding-Queene But that it might Faiths Chamber-maid be seene The Popes opinion is Faiths Conduit-Head But by Gods Word Mans Faith must not be fed O proud presumpt'ous vaine profane Decree And which proues plaine Asses-eares Popes Eares bee Yet anxiously almost All Popery rests In vntaught Teachers blockish brutish Brests Now comes the Scribling Age Arts honour braue Romes pretty Page the Popes fine fawning Slaue And many Wonders wondrously doth write Whereto in doubt I Faith deny and plight These Packes of Pick-thanks flattering Gnathoes base With luscious Larde fatten the Popes fat face These are dull Doctours as dull Carkasses Hee these fond Fooles conformes formes as hee please All these skinne-o're foule Antichrists deepe woundes But what 's the Salue when God the Sore confounds The golden-Legends of their Saints they 'l show Whereof Hee is most wise which least doth know For senselesse Writs and sottish Writers rare Rome long hath borne the Bell past all compare To which deuoid of Light and Learning quite What Popes each houre put out put in is right In wondrous witlesse wise many seeme wise Who little teach and lesse doe exercise T' Apollo's Kitchin I 'd not bring their Bookes But for Pie-papers and for Spice for 's Cookes And their mad making many Bookes I feare Is it which makes mee buy my paper deare Hee which as forged Writings doth suppose Canons-Apostolike with Truth he goes But when Decrees they Decre●als would call Gods true Religion then began to fall Neither my Mars nor my Minera● may Their New-Religions oft diuorce diplay Thalia bite thy Nailes thy writings rend For one-thing yet will not thy Verse attend Yet be couragious courage much assists With strong-arm'd hopes to re-attempt the Lists Blacke and White-Friers Priests in gay Coates drest A two-foot Cordeleire a bare-foot Beast Fryers Mendicants and Manducants encrease Fat Epicurean-Calues besmear'd with grease All these faire Sprigs fat Pigs Romes Sow doth breed From Romes most pregnant Dam such Broods proceed Heere thou maist see Christs Name make many white Whose diuelish deeds make their liues black as night Their houres deuotion is their deuoration And to their throat to giue a fat oblation But some doe fast that they by Fasts may merit And thereby thinke fond fooles Heau'n to inherit Each one his Sect obserues obsequiously Does Deeds forbidden bidden Deeds doth fly This Sect weares Linnen That will woollen weare This Sect holds Fish That Hearbs more holy fare This bald-pate narrow is That 's bald more wide This weares his Gowne more loose That 's closer tide This Augustine serues best That Benedict This O Carthusian is thy Copesmate strict This beares the Crosse That beares the Coole about This is for th' Altar That for th' Kitchin stout This sweet Saint Francis is thy follower bold That as his Slaue Saint Anthony doth hold This like an Auchorite liues in a Wall That strange to th' World loues the World most of all This to Hee-Saints That to Shee-Saints doth pray This Woodden-gods That Stonie-gods makes gay This to things fram'd fain'd pictur'd prostrate vowes This one knee That to 's Image both knees bowes This Christs That Peters This Pauls Ape will seeme This you 'l an Oxes Asses Sowes Mate deeme Finally fitly coth ' Oxe Theefe Sow Priest meete And many hold this Sect to bee most sweete Yet euery Sect thinkes his Rites holyest And of all Orders his to be the best Diuorcement of Religious Romanists Their Faith may se●er neuer firmely twists There are whom I' Suites from Sowes may name For they their Names from Iesus falsely frame These are Peace-spoylers Bellowes for to blow And Brands to kindle flames of quenchlesse woe This fraud-blood-borne base-brood dissembles faines And with sweet words to hide sharpe Swords takes paines 'T's enough that they ye● Luther Papists were This is their Faiths and their Religious Sphere See the Deuotion of these braue Whip-bearers How they with whips are dayly selfes-flesh Tearers Giuing themselues forty Stripes lacking one For this in thee O blest Saint Paul w●s showne Francis they say Christs wounds in 's Body bare To Romes Stygmatickes Hee 's the Patterne rare Hee onely had with Christ Conformity In 's body therefore ●hey fiue-wounds can spie I wish them this deuotion still to hold This whipping-Cheere Christs Coate thus bought sold. But let their Whips three stinging Cords containe And Tiburn-like triangled
sense the Starres And no Eclipse thy shining Iubar barres All the trim treasures of Celestiall skill The sacred Cabinet of thy brest fill The gates of hell against thee haue no might Faith doth for Thee at sword and buckler fight Yea thou Christs very thoughts dost throughly know And in thy mouth Gods Sp●rit springs to and fro Why should not then the Worlds loud exclamation Sound out to thee Hosanna their Saluation Th' art righteousnesse and Peace's Prince of fame Melchisedech King Salem chang'd in name Since gracelesse Rome with her vngrounded faith Other blest names of Christ to thee giuen hath Christ is the first thou the Worlds second light So golden Glosses t 'vs grosse-Asses write In Christ her Pheere the Church his Deere is blest And thou Vice-Christ her Brooker keepst her best Christ is that Royall-Head which quickens all And thou must be that Head Subalternall The world which Christ protects is thine owne charge Let others take his part thine 's the world large Christ and Thou but one Consistorie haue Thus vnder him thy rule may realmes be-slaue Thou Cherubins and Seraphins mak'st tremble Yea Deuils to doe thy will thou'lt soone assemble Mountaines to Mole-hils melt vailes cleaue in sunder Seas are drawne dry if with thy Voice Thou thunder The firey Charret of Elias straight Shall whurrey thee through Clouds to Heau'n Gate In spight of Swords and Shields great King of Kings Earth's Thrones to thy Throne couple with strong strings Thy Royalties with Christs so close agree That as thou iugglest we no difference see Yet to be plaine great difference is in th' one But being alike your Powers the like are knowne Thou mai'st infringe Christ must the Law fulfill Laws Debt●r Hee Thou Dispensator still What need we Words when Deeds more plainely speake That at thy pleasure thou Gods Laws canst breake By Power of Pope-ship and the Holy Chaire Thou All canst marre All things as iust dost dare If ought remaine to heate it I am prest That so thy Clients tired eares may rest Hence-forth I le thee a Fisher of Men make Ergo the Pope in 's net may Kingdomes take All things are iudg'd by the Spirituall man Ergo the Pope doth all well iudge and scan All things are iudg'd by the Spirituall man Ergo iudge Popes pneumaticke-Lords none can Heere are two Swords Ergo they both are Thine And euery Kingdome shall to thee incline Perish shall euery Land not seruing Thee Ergo all must Popes Tributares bee Perish shall euery Land not seruing thee Ergo to th' Pope all Lands must vassals bee Vnder his feet are all things put Ergo All power this Hyperbolike Pope's below No man can serue two Masters Ergo All Must serue the Pope and from their Princes ●●ll No Seruant is aboue his Master knowne Ergo to blame the Pope t is fit for none Slaues than their Lords Cynthia than Sol is lesse Ergo ought Kings to Popes their necks depresse Many such Lies Arch-Sophister thy Wit Relates and wrests Gods holy Word to it And were not Thine concordant to the same 'T were none of Thine none of it from thee came Thy Witnesse call'd Thou l't tortures adde thereto Their right to wrong their contrary to doe Thus Thou a Doctors Charge Christs Office thus Thou vnder-go'st and smack'st Gods deepe sense thus Distastefull is thy Taste th' art Woodden Wise Whil'st thou dost broach thy braines fond fantasies Thou Chimicall Expounder Protean Senses Giu'st to Gods Word with an old Foxe pretences Yet no Sence Wrested Thou the Text dost follow For thou art Scriptures Phoebu● wise Apollo Art thou the Bibles Hermes Touch-stone pure Hee that denies it does most wisely sure OF THE DAMNABLE DOCTRINE IN THE DECEIVEABLE SYNAGOGVE OF SATAN AT ROME THE FOVRTH SATYRE The ARGVMENT Coyned re-coyned Faith at Rome oft hatches A great Encrease botcht vp with many patches WIth what thicke mists oh Antichrist prophane What Stygian Chaos seekst thou Truth to staine Of Liuing Streames poys'ning the sound sweet drafts Digging vp Muddy-Pooles of Lyes and Crafts On paine of Heau'ns fierce furie charging All Wrong-wrested Texts to hold Authenticall Thou scorn'st the Hebrew Conduit-Heads As though From thy Sluce Slowe farre fairer Floods did flow With Orthodox Apocryphall false Writs VVith Doubtlesse Truth Fryers Forgeries Rome fits Grammaticke Mystick Morall Sphynx-like senses Gods Booke must haue to saue the Popes pretences But since such various Sense Gods Booke containes I wonder how least Sence in It remaines Thus Antichrist Christs Word most heau'nly Treasure Doth explicate and applicate at 's pleasure O proud prompt Tyrant of Non-sense or Sense Bold Bibliocide Autographs oft offence Great Talmudists Rare Popish Alchymist Whose becke whose bleat thy Sheepe lead as thou list O how Romes learned Land-markes on her Glosses The Popes great pleasure or confirmes or crosses Christs Scriptures you with Drosse for Doctrine varnish That they thus wrong'd your Latian-God may garnish For this Metropolite of Sophisters Hath of Religion Asse-like Enginers And Readers Iester iustly sure is Hee Whiles thus for profit hee 'le God 's Prophet bee Faiths Farmer Framer formes opinions new And would with His Faiths-Bond bind Christians true Foule fac't the Worlds Apostate-Generall T'himselfe assumes Faiths holy Tenents all VVhen once his Annuall pompous Fasts begin VVho-'ere eats Flesh commits a deadly sinne Fish they may eate but to eate Flesh 't is hated Because the Earth not Sea was execrated Great ghostly Grand-Sire Coryphe of Doctors Peoples Omega Alpha of Hels Proctors Since thou dost thus such Diuelish doctrines broach Is 't like Christs Flock Thou Guide can Heau'n approch Since thou'lt officiate Satans part so well Th' art Commissarie not of Heau'n but Hell Scriptures Thou cal'st the Booke of Heretickes And these Mans ioy thou burn'st like Brands or Stickes And though in other Bookes be thousand Lyes Onely the Bible as Delinquent Fries In vttrance strange Thy holy things are showne Which Ignorants conceiue like stupid Stone Hee which to men reades Scriptures fruitfully Casts Bread to Dogs to Hogs doth pearles apply Raw stomacks may their holyest things digest Their Picture-Pastures famisht Soules fill best A Players posture shewes Faiths Mysterie And Folkes in Flocks caru'd Saints doe rectifie Thus Bethel's made Bethauen th' Arke exilde Thus Molechs raigne Gods Temple hath defilde What talke I of their Glosses of dull Wit While their dull Bishop iests with sacred Writ Of Gods blest Word th' abused Maiesty Shewes in Romes rout that ther 's no piety Th' order of pristine Priests was once of Gold Now't's Wooden Why Wooden Popes Popedomes hold Keepers had need be kept Teachers be taught Curates of Cures be cur'd lest all be naught Illit'rate Lubbe●s base are dignifi'de To th' sacred Chaire comes nought but climbing pride Priests cloddy cloudy ignorance poore skill With most Cymmerian darknesse Temples fill With Babish toyes of Christ they Pulpits staine With impious Errours they chaste Faith prophaine Most drossy Darnell poysonous Pills they giue
shames not O Mad Religion strange Diuinity Clergies faire Helon Popes fond Fantasie Bread makes a God as Mice may Ca●●ls make Not so The Popes opinion wee mistake But Sure although the Trid●●●-Councell wise The same to Christs Guests more than once denies The same meanes which in Baptisme Christ containes The same i th' Supper also Christ retaines This feeds That breeds by Christs Concorporation I 'm Bred and Fed by the same Obligation Symbolik● Signes we all in Baptisme see Therefore the Signes i th' Supper vnchang'd bee In Christ I liue as I of Christ am made What Grace conuerts concernes mee as is said Vnion giues Life Communion It sustaines That was the Spirits This still the Spirits remaines But truely truely for this truth 's most true And Faith to be Truths Daughter ought most due What 's made of Bread o th' Virgin is not made Nor was Christs Being from a Bread-corne blade Nor was the Promis'd Seed of Graines weake power Nor Mary blest a Mother of fiue Flower Nor did the Roote of les● beare ●ares of Corne Nor was I●d's Li●● of Land-Acres borne Nor Floods on C●r●s Bi●th the Dragon shed Nor could a Wheat-Eare breake the Serpe●t● Headpunc Besides I feele this bruis'd assum'd consum'd Where was Christ● Body then may 't be presum'd Absurdly ●bsurd Fooles absurd things reach And to th' Absurd absurd opinions preach Out Field is fil'd with troopes of Reasons good Which Popish Parad●xe● make to skud When Christ Himselfe the Bread of Life did name Before and after that Christ was tho S●me Christ is a Vine the Ways the Life who euer In Him gr●●bes g●es li●●s f●des wanders die● neuer Thus Christ saies of himselfe yet I suppose Of Way ●me Life no Transi●●●●tio● ro●e Why then i th' Supper should a change be made 'Cause Christ of Bread This is my Body said What if huge Heapes of Loaues were consecrated Must all to Flesh be forth-with Transmutated What if a Groomes Horse-Bread b● conse●red Will it straight into Flesh be altered What if the holy-Hoste be eate in Lent Will it be turn'd to Flesh incontinent At that time I thinke rather t is Fish made For Flesh to eate in Lens Popes haue gaine said How well Romes Pythagorean Foole doth act Does things forbidden forbids his owne Fact T is Witty Folly Fathers foolish Wit To Stab his ●tatutes his Births heart to split This Popish Metamorphosis most vi●d Hath Natures Lawes puld downe Gods Lawes defil'd Faiths Nerues and ioynts it reaues and cleaues in sunder And brings in Doctrines●ew ●ew with hideous wonder These working-working-Words This i● my Body They No Type or mysticke meaning haue doe say Yet heer 's a Trope for heer 's a Transmutation Thus they deny euen their owne affirmation Truth 's Force and Strength is great most certainely And makes Hi● Foes hir praise to testifie Thus oft-times Thieues fatally faults confesse Traitors owne mouthes their trecheries expresse For Sacraments the Papist placeth Toyes And for a Trope Tropicall Trickes employes Deiects what Hee erects grants what 's gain-said Puls downe the House which his owne Hands haue made Peruerse Conuersion doth peruert Sense sound An impious Glosse doth Truths pure Gl●sse confound For forced by the words true force and scope The Test'ment cald a Cup they say's a Trope And why i st not a Trope when Bread is nam'd Christs body is here other speech forme from'd He 's non-plusd now his fond opinion frights him And Heresies owne hand herear euen smites him Incredulous quite faithlesse may I be Y'ere I dull Papist fixe my Faith to thee Many such false fain'd Iliads yet haue I All which to whip one day cannot supply Not all of Christ but whole Christ each where stayes This ancient Fathers faith affirmes and sayes If then Christs flesh be not in eu'ry place Sure 't is not flesh i th' Masse in any case If Bread it be and must his Body be Then of his Body 't is no Signe to me The Body 's not the Type the Type It shades If things themselues be Types the Type then fades All other holy things their Signes ne're change That Signes change onely here Is it not strange Surely these pendent Seales assure alone That Promise which Gods Word had me fore-showne And sacred Seales their Patents ne're oppose Therefore both Signe and Substance Christ enclose But by the Word our Mouthes must not Christ chew This Supper then Words Seale makes not this true This Reason's Eagle-ey'd in truth quicke-sighted And what It sees is quickly erudited This Reason seemes with radient Sun-beames written With so pure Light the sight is thereby smitten But now here 's one and one in stead of All Which thunder-throttles Romes faith mysticall If vnder shew of Bread Christs flesh be made Are snares of death in this flesh closely laide Henrie the seuenth Emp'rour of Germanie By Poyson in a Masse foule fact did die But sure Christs flesh with Poyson ne're was mixt True Life not Death is to Christs flesh affixt T is strange Christs flesh i th' Poyson did not die When venome in that Murthering-Masse did lie I wonder when the Frier i th' Fier did throw The Host whether Christs Flesh he did it know Fond foole thy learned lectures thee confound And thine owne cords haue thee in snares fast bound What need I striue t' oppose Thee with my Shield When thine owne Sword wounds Thee wins Me the field If consecrated-Bread so altera●e That Masse-Priests may God to Christs flesh create As many Lo●●es so many Bodies be As many Bit● so many God● we see And when Christ first his Body made our meate He did himselfe in forme and substance eate For what he to his twelue-Disciples gaue Himselfe I thinke did eate This all Feasts craue And sure that Vine whose Wine Christ then did drinke Gaue plentie of our Sauiours Bloud I thinke And euen so oft as Bi●s Christs Body bee So oft his Soule from 's Body torne hath he For I beleeue his Soule they cannot bake Their foule-mouth'd-Masse thereof no power can take If Thou 'lt on points as Vowels Vassall stand And not permit true iudgement thee command As Bread Christs Body is witnesse Gods Writ So is the Cup his Bloud Truth prouing it Any Cup forg'd by any any Art To th' Testament in Christs bloud doth conuert Nor was O Christ blest Marie more thy Mother Than Goddesse-Masse would be to thee another Nor were thy Bones O Christ broke on the Crosse But Popelings Teeth bruise breake them short as Mosse Nor could one Body all Christs Guests suffice To take least part thereof their Soules chiefe price And whilst heau'n earth at once this flesh containe His flesh continuous Christ cannot retaine And mouldie Bread we all know Wormes will breed Which from Christs Flesh 't is plaine cannot proceed And Wine kept long in Cups will sure waxe tart But thy sweet Bloud O Christ still cheeres my heart And in thy hand crucifi'd flesh didst keepe
Markes remaine But why doe such huge Troopes of Wenches throng In Popish Camps Their Couents struggling long Obedience sure and vowed Chastity They there performe true Popish piety Nymphs strangely pregnant this Religion makes And from Maid-mothers their sad burthen takes In many Cells this Hell-Spawne Papall Crue Vow-breaking Brood their belly-gripes can shew If in Romes holy Coope hat●ht-chickens peepe 'T is chaste enough if closly they it keepe In euery Cloister and religious Cell Their order Rites and Rules doe all excell Each for Religions Rule his Order hath Their Orders order Fooles disorder Faith Mongst all their honoured Sects by Order graced Romes Order rules Gods Order is thence chased Alas doth Romes Schismatike traine by fractions Sound praises Harpe or discords Dramme to factions At Festiuals approch Good-Workes they praise But to performe them vse most long delayes Feasts ornate onerate each moneth each day That all the yeere almost brings dayes of play Then with their Feete not Hearts to Church they goe Where prayers performance all their fingers show And who 'd not sweare that they to Christ pray not When as amaz'd they pray but know not what Thus they their frequent Mattens Vespers vtter And Orizons to Hee-Saints Shee-Saints mutter Thus for Hearts Vowes Harps various harmony They giue to God Songs for Sincerity I oft admire Romes Bacchus-like oblation T is strange yet see things of more admiration Popes Bulls Popes Pardons Oh how deere they be Yet this deere ware 's not worth a Rush to mee Braue Balsome th' Agnus-Dei Fooles to gull I hold as deare as is a Locke of Wooll In Romes rare Riches and facetious-Treasure None but meere Mad-men or fond-fooles take pleasure Hee that is wise Romes Buls blowne bubbles makes Hee 's wise Romes Fathers Lead as Feathers takes What speake I of the Frauds and lying Tricks From which this holy Sire much money picks Romes Popes the Worlds prime Pedlers Chapmen braue Much gaine from many Wares created haue Are Merry-Stewards of all sorts of toyes Chiefe Schoole-Masters of Schooles of ioylesse Ioyes Yea Romes quick Sight such money-Snares doth frame As to relate doe want Meanes Number Name That gaine may grow and Rome may Riches see Base Hucksters Pedlers Panders Popes will bee What-ere Romes fingers feele his eye doth spy His Heele kicks-at is holyer instantly For from this holy Prelates spicey-lips Into All-things rare sweetnesse strangely skips If Satans filthy throat beltch-vp Infection The Pope from 's mouth breathes forth a fine Protection Besides His holy Breath strange to be told Makes all his Sons the Holy-Ghost to hold Creating Masse-Priests hands on them hee layes Breathes then Receiue the Holy-Ghost hee saies Since Christ said so Hee must needs wicked bee Sayes the Pope may not say 't as well as Hee What-so is Christs the holy Father claimes And this the Head of all sound Faith hee names For whatsoe're gods-Gods-Word our Sauiour gaue The Pope Christs Little-Ape the same must haue As to Ierusalem an Asse Christ bare So should the Pope ride Asses Horses spare Alas one-day would nothing neere suffice To reckon-vp all Romes fond Popperies By great good hap to hunt for store of Coine The Pope hath got neat Gins and Engines fine Since neuer Bishop thriu'd by Subtiltie The Popes Throne onely thriues by knauerie Faire Marts of Arts and Crafts to get much gold He hath ordain'd where mud for money's sold. Anti-Christ first Babe-like then a Roarer stout To his great Grand-Sires dealt rich doales about But now his Tributes haue a Feuer got Which Griefe to cure he must contriue a plot What once was held Iupiters Image braue Fishing Saint Peters picture now they 'le haue But this I 'd ne're beleeue vnlesse my Creed With a strong Mountaine-mouing Faith he feed So strong long loose a Faith all Popelings finde To trust whats'ere Popes wills their conscience binde Peters Conclaue long after him wan't knowne Nor Rome to be Popes Sacro-sancted Throne The Carriage of the Host so vp and downe Knew no such vse as now is come to Towne The Master of Romes Market sells vaine things And to Gods House he thus base Riches brings He makes his Buyers re-buy things fore-bought And yet the Sale his wares abateth nought He giues what 's sold what 's giuen he 'le keepe he 'le hold And the same-thing to many at once is sold. He frees for fees and if the Pope thou pay His pitteous-Pardon is thine owne strait-way Romes Broker trust it hath all sorts of ware And Pearles of Blisse for Gold can soone prepare Reprobate run to Rome for there behold Heauens holyest Household-stuff thou'l● buy for gold Was this rare selling-Trade giuen Peter tho The Popes Bull sure shall ne're make me thinke so But now of Wonders wondrous rare I write Vnworthy Credit worthy Fooles to fright In many Temples made of Marble Stone Whereof proud Romes bigge brags abroad are blowne Their Stones sweat Blood their wood yeelds trickling-teares But he whose Faith here failes is freest from feares Their mumbling strange makes deuills them obay And can enforce fiends fast to flie away Fairies Hobgoblin● Witches Fantasies Can doe no hurt if the Pope play his prize In holy Fonts their Bells baptized are Pay for a peale and Sprites they quickly scare Incense they burne their Altars to perfume Whereat the Deuill soone flies foorth of the roome Yea Romes blest Bishop by his soueraigne skill Can make the fiercest Fiend flie when he will Satan would rage-about his Chaine being broke If Romes rare Art did not that yongster yoke Much talke they haue of holy-Waters good Whether it 's not more powr'full than Christ blood For from sinnes spots and blots it frees the soule And Satans malice quickly can controule If sprinkled with this holy-dew th' art blest For of all Liquours this is purely best Hemerobaptists Papists rightly shew Who madly must each day haue holy-dew O Puppet-playing Papists Triflers vaine Crafts-Enginers Deluders most profaine He I beleeue which taught you this blacke-Art Than Satans selfe playes better Satans part Holy Lambes-wooll is very dearely sold This the Popes Cassocke makes more rich with gold If the Pope sell pure Wax it purgeth Sinne This truth than Truth it selfe more truth must winne With the Popes finger to be blest is rare Deny this and deny Seuens Starres there are O what great power hath holy Vnction Spittle Honey and Milke to Grace sure 't is not little But if thy fiercest foes the crosse doe spie This conq'ring Signe will surely make them flie Her circumspectiue care doth cure keepe All Is the soules Target Tower to saue from thrall I wonders write By it the world is guided And with the crosse Christ hath his Crowne diuided Not Christs coats hemme not Dauids harpe to God Sea-cutting Rod Vnto the Crosse in power halfe equall were For it euen Gods owne might and grace doth beare When to the Crosse Christs Body was made fast Gods power vpon it doubtlesse then was cast
And Salues apply which Health from Sicknes driue If Strumpet Rome had not a brazen Brow She could not but my Words for truth auow If shee deny as that shee hath and will It shall her brand with prostituted Ill. But now le ts see what rotten Rags remaine What vpstart Tricks Romish Faith to sustaine Do'st know great Purgatories wondrous fire This flame cleares soules Bags emptieth for hire This purgeth Purses pregnant with pure gold Romes strong gold-glister torrid zoane behold This purgeth metals though most pure before And leaues to fooles of wit and wealth small store A Bug-Beare is this great Catharticke flame Popes painted hell Worlds Scarre-Crow fools to tame How this fond Popes fond fire fond fooles doth fright How foolish lightnings from 's false heau'ns shine bright Nothing but Sinons voice Fraud Chimicke trickes Is in this strange Purse-purifying Styx He which can quickly kindle this quicke flame Can if he list rare Craftesmen quench the same Thou hast O Sacred Sir firme facultie To damne redeeme all soules that there doe frie If thou canst saue but wilt not th' art too iust But if thou wouldst and canst not who 'le thee trust Choose wheth'r of these since either of these o'rethrow thee A Lying-Priest or Tyrant-fierce they shew thee Romes Pontificke Pompificke Prelate rather Such fond Daedalean fantasies doth father And Berengarius quaintly quips them well For pot and pottage they the World excell But I if lawfull 't is may terme them true Mercuries Ioiners Coiners of faith new Great reason i st that Purgatories fire Should burne most bright and warme the Popes desire For if this Money-fertile fire goe out Popes chimneys would alas lie cold I doubt O Supreme Priest Apostle generall Great master of the Chaire dogmaticall O let illiterate Me be farther taught The Babylonish Rites thy braines haue brought Thy great Decr●e from heau'n all those keeps out Which from Thy sheep-cote straggle stray about Thy slightest censure makes damn'd Atheists flie Thee to displease brings death vndoubtedly No scourge of Heretickes ere rag'd like Thee Yet thou worst Hereticke they guiltie be Since Personall Succession helpes thee not Thy Faiths Succession who regards a iot Yet this I grant as Darkenesse followes Light Thou and thy sheepe-hooke follow Peter right Thou Caiaphas 〈◊〉 Cephas dost succeed Simon not Peter Magus did thee breed Annas and Caiphas held succession faire But Christ and'● followers did not for it care Issue of Men Faiths issue can't imply Nor empty scabbards win a victorie By hearing not succeeding Faith 's begot A Holy life mak●s good-men Orders not Ancletus Cletus Clemens Linus Pope Which who succeeds to shew is past all hope And to this day the tyranne Turke doth hold Foure Patriarke Seates by foure Popes lost or sold. Thus he Vice-Christ doth Christ suc●eed 't is right For Vice-Christs Presence breeds Christs Absence quite That rauening Wolues should follow Pastors pure Saint Paul foretold and Gods Amen proues sure O disguisde Sire Christs Vicar vizard fac't Which here on earth hells forces courses haste Shew me more Wardroabes of thy Alcaron And nouell Tricks thy Treuet stands vpon 'T is thy diuine decree that Man sins slaue Can worke Gods Will yea more then God doth craue The Iust thou sayst doe it but perfect men Doe more than Gods Law doth demand of them But i st in me the Law of God to doe Why then by Bond did God me binde thereto The Law me kills the Law me tramples-on Can then Lifes acts by Dead be vndergon By power of mans Free-will and inbred-good Thou dost despise disgrace Christs blessed Blood And lasting life t'election to make sure Thou 'lt vse thy Mud and not Christs Mould most pure Christs blood shut-vp vaine Veniall-Sinnes thou 'lt finde Which to Deaths Doome the soule of no man binde But eu'n these sins which frō Christs bloud thou'dst free Will cause thy soule Christs Kingdome ne're to see Whilst by the Law thou lookest for Saluation Thou dost the Law by meere imagination For how thou ●anst Gods firme Law vndergoe Thine owne fast-law-bound Conscience best can show Christs Bloud thou sayst for Sinne not Paine did pay Yet thy Indulgence can take Both away Sometime thou'lt Penanco haue yet Sinne protected Can Sinne be salu'd yet Penance be expected O the Indulgent loue os Romes kinde Father To binde loose shew to Guilt and Guiltie fauour At once he blowes and sups makes hot and cold Bindes and vnbindes vnbound things fast doth hold What e're he pardons he can punish to Make Guiltie Guiltlesse this and more he 'le doe His Ramish-Romish Faith much Mirth may make But whos 's weake Faith true growth from it can take He which is dawbd with extreme V●ction hath Full strength to struggle with spirituall scath This blessed Balme Christs blessed seruants makes He 's none of Christs that Babels Balme forsakes But Caluinists though Papists rage and raue To greaze their Boots this oyle doe often saue Calixtus wisely did foure Fasts ordaine For bodies yeares foure quarters do● containe Like the foure Humours and foure Elements And as foure farthings for foure Egges contents As Peter was a Fisher fish to vse Peters religious Popes doe chiefly choose Repentance was no Sacrament of old Penance is now a new-one vncontrould Baptisme's a pledge of Faith to Christ conioyn'd And by this Badge Romes Vice-Christ his will finde Heau'ns life Eternall by externall lauing We get and thence comes all mens hope of sauing This Salt this Oyle these magicke Arts ranke Spittle Abuse thy people O Christ not a little O damn'd deeds of Romes botching-Bishop base Gods Law and pure Hand-writing to disgrace Heretickes this Arch-Hereticke makes those Which will not seuen sound Sacraments suppose For the seuen Card'nall Vices Vertues show From the new cou'nant iust seuen Signes to grow i th' Eucharist their Wine is poysnous sure For laymen may not that dire draught endure These thirstie Guests sup sip no moisture they Against their wils That cup to passe them pray If Sacrilegiously they 'l halfe with-hold With neither part to part they may be bold Masse-Priests tooke Bread and Wine Laicks but Bread If Bread serue these with both why are Priests fed The answer 's easie Who eats Bread has Wine For needs must Flesh within it Bloud conioyne Well if meere-Bread both Bread and Wine doth coope Why besides Bread take Priests so sound a S●ope And if one-Element sufficient be Change turnes Giue Laicks Wine take Bread to thee Since Christ Cup Bearer-like gaue vs his Blood How is it by audacious Popes withstood Confession is thou sayst Sinnes Remedie But thy flocke findes it Curing-Crueltie Their soule being fed with Vineger and Gall When pard'ned to sinnes Penance 't is in thrall Soule-Tyrannizing Pope dire dregs hard heart O how vnkindely-kinde alas thou art No Laude much Fraud in thy Confessions be Which thy Newes-quaff●ing-Eares slie Clarke drink free Surely the fond Confessors selfe oft times Both heares and cleares