O the Catholick Cause! now assist me my Muse,
How earnestly I do desire thee !

Neither will I Pray to St. Bridget to Day,

But only to thee to Inspire me.

Whence should Purity come, but from Catholick Rome ?
I wonder much at your Folly;

For St. Peter was there, and left an old Chair,
Enough to make all the World Holy.

For this Sacred old Wood is so excellent good,
If Tradition may be believed;

That whoever sits there, needs never more fear
The danger of being deceived.

;

1

If the Devil himself should (God Bless us) get up,
Tho' bis Nature we know to be Evil;

Yet whilst he sat there, as divers will swear,
He would be an Infallible Devil.

Now who sits in this Seat but our Father the Pope?
So that here's a plain Demonstration ;
As clear as Noon-day, we're in the right way,
And all others are Doom'd to Damnation.

If this will not suffice, yet to open your Eyes,
Which are blinded in bad Education;
We have Arguments Twenty, and Miracles plenty,
Enough to convince a whole Nation.

If you give but good heed, you shall see the Host bleed,
And if anything can perswade ye;

An Image shall Speak, or at least it shall Squeak,
In the Honour of our Lady.

You shall see without doubt, the Devil cast out,
As of old by Erra Pater;

He shall skip about and tear, like a Dancing-bear;
When he feels the Holy Water.

If

If yet doubtful you are, we have Relicks most rare,
We can shew you the Sacred Manger;
Several Loads of the Cross, as good as e'er was,
To preserve your Souls from Danger.

Should I tell you of all, it would move a Stone-wall,
But I spare you a little for pity;

That each one may prepare, and rub up his Ear,
For the Second Part of my Ditty.

The Second PART. To the same Tune.

No They
OW listen again to those things that remain,
are Matters of weight I assure you ;
And the First thing I say, throw your Bibles away,
'Tis impossible else for to Cure you.

O that Pestilent Book! Never on it more look,
I wish I could speak it out louder ;

It has done more Men harm, I dare boldly affirm,
Than th' Invention of Guns and Powder.

As for Matters of Faith, believe what the Church saith, But for Scriptures leave that to the Learned;

For these are Edge Tools, and you Lay-men are Fools, If ye touch them y'are sure to be harmed.

But pray
what is it for that you make all this stir?
You must Read, you must Hear and be Learned;
If you'll be on our part, we will teach you an Art,
That you need not be so much Concerned.

Be the Church's good Son, and your work is half done,
After that you may do your own pleasure;

If your Beads you can tell, and say Ave Mary well, Never doubt of the Heavenly Treasure.

For

For the Pope keeps the Keys, and can do what he please,

And without all peradventure;

If you cannot at the Fore, yet at the Back-dore
Of Indulgence you may enter.

But First by the way, you must make a short stay,
At a place call'd Purgatory;

Which the Learned us tell, in the Buildings of Hell,
Is about the Middlemost Story.

'Tis a monstrous Hot place, and a Mark of disgrace, In the Torment on't long to endure?

None are kept there but Fools, and poor pitiful Souls, Who can no ready Money procure.

For a handsome round Sum, you may quickly be gone, For the Church has wisely Ordain'd :

That they who build Crosses, and pay well for Masses, Should not there be too long detain'd.

So that 'tis a plain Case, as the Nose on ones Face, We are in the surest Condition;

And none but poor Fools and some niggardly Owls,
Need fall into utter Perdition.

What aileth you then, O ye Great and Rich Men,
That ye will not hearken to Reason;

Since as long as y'have Pence, ye need scruple no
Offence,

Be it Murder, Adultrey, or Treason.

And ye sweet natur'd Women, who hold all things common,

My Addresses to you are most hearty;

And to give you your due, you are to us most true,
And we hope we shall gain the whole Party.

If you happen to Fall, your Pennance shall be small,
And although you cannot forego it;

We have for you a Cure, if of this you be sure
To Confess before you go to it.

D 2

There

There is one Reason yet, which I cannot omit,
To those who affect the French Nation;
Hereby we advance the Religion of France,
The Religion that's only in Fashion.

If these Reasons prevail, (as how can they fail ?)
To have Popery entertain'd;

You cannot conceive, and will hardly believe,
What Benefits hence may be gain'd.

For the Pope shall us Bless, (that's no small Happiness)
And again we shall see restor'd

The Italian Trade, which formerly made

This Land to be so much ador'd.

O the Pictures and Rings, the Beads and fine things, The good Words as sweet as Honey;

All this and much more shall be brought to our Door,
For a little dull English Money.

Then shall Justice and Love, and what can move,
Be restor❜d again to our Britain;

And Learning so common, that every Old Woman
Shall say her Prayers in Latin.

Then the Church shall bear sway, and the State shall obey,

Which is now look'd upon as a Wonder;

And the Proudest of Kings, and all Temporal things, Shall submit and truckle under.

And the Parliament too, who have tak'n us to do,
And have handl'd us with so much Terror;
May chance on that score ('tis no time to say more)
They may chance to acknowledge their Error.

If any Man yet shall have so little Wit,

As still to be Refractory;

I swear by the Mass, he is a meer Ass
And so there's an end of a Story.

Sir FRANCIS DRAKE: Or, Eighty Eight.

To the same Tune.

OME Years of late, in Eighty Eight,

SON

As I do well remember a;

It was, some say, on the Ninth of May,
And some say in September a.

The Spanish Train launch'd forth a-main,
With many a fine Bravado ;

Whereas they thought, but it prov'd nought,
The Invincible Armado.

There was a little Man that dwelt in Spain,
That shot well in a Gun a ;

Don Pedro height, as Black a Wight,
As the Knight of the Sun a.

King Phillip made him Admiral,
And bad him not to stay a;
But to destroy both Man and Boy,
And so to come away a.

The Queen was then at Tillbury,
What could we more desire a ;
Sir Francis Drake, for Her sweet sake,
Did set 'em all on Fire a.

Away they ran by Sea and Land,

So that one Man slew Three-score a ;
And had not they all run away,

O my Soul, we had killed more a.

Then let them neither brag nor boast,
For if they come again a ;

Let them take heed they do not speed,
As they did they knew when a.

A