The Protestants Vade Mecum Or, Popery Display'd in its proper Colours, In Thirty Emblems, Lively representing all the Jesuitical Plots Against this Nation, and More fully this late hellish Designe Against his Sacred Majesty. Curiously engraven in Copper-plates |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
Emblem VI. The Pope laments the loss of the Spanish Fleet.
|
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
22
Emblem VI. The Pope laments the loss of the Spanish Fleet.
Didst thou weep now, and for thy many Crimes,The World might hope to see much better times.
23
That the triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the Hypocrite but for a moment.
JOB, Chap. 20. v. 5.
Prevented thus, must all my Counsels be
Abortive still, and end in infamy!
Must all those many thousand slaves of mine
That flew to listen, long'd for a design,
Allow'd their thoughts, applauded my device,
Nay, Kings I was not wanting to entice,
Which now will melt away like winters Ice.
All my Religious dear Indulgencies,
My Bulls, my Dispensations, Fopperies,
My Pardons, Holy Unction, nay, my hate,
Which still I vended at so dear a rate,
It made a Bankrupt of a Potentate.
My Excommunications too were grown,
To take them off—
So dear, they would undo a Throne.
Abroad my foolish Fires, my teaching Crowd,
My false Helena's which this See allow'd,
My dear infernal propagators too,
Who taught Religion, that it might undo.
My Priests, my Monks, my Jesuits; nay, all
The Romish Tribe will in this Conflict fall.
This dear Religion which admits all vice,
This Chain which links the wise, doth fools entice,
This Agent fram'd to cheat the souls of men,
The bugbear which this Empress doth condemn,
She, she o'rethrows it; Rome must totter down,
And its luxurious Tribe dread ev'ry frown.
We must be circumscrib'd that liv'd at ease,
And had varieties enough to please;
How shall we, now this grand design is known
And blasted, keep our selves upon the Throne?
The tender Virgins in the early bud
Seduc'd by what they never understood,
Do vainly hope for an eternal good:
Drawn by that Magnet, our Religion, come
To be unerring prostitutes of Rome.
We or the Sacred Tribe assail the Tree,
And then forgive her loss of Chastity.
These, these great blessings must be snatch'd away;
None but the blind will groap in open day.
If they pluck off but once the Lyons skin,
All will degrade the Ass that's hid within;
So if discover'd by this last defeat,
The Rabble will deride me for a Cheat.
This, this I fear, 'tis this which makes me mourn;
Haste to the holy Tribe, make swift return,
Bear 'em these drops, these liquid Pearly tears,
Bid 'em take heart, and banish all their fears;
Tell 'em—
Another Plot is laid; nay, tell 'em more,
Tell 'em, the Plot's far stronger than before.
The Embryo's hatch'd which Hell shall ne're revoke,
Nor shall it like the last design be broke,
Though it infest the neighbouring world with smoak.
Abortive still, and end in infamy!
Must all those many thousand slaves of mine
That flew to listen, long'd for a design,
Allow'd their thoughts, applauded my device,
Nay, Kings I was not wanting to entice,
Which now will melt away like winters Ice.
All my Religious dear Indulgencies,
My Bulls, my Dispensations, Fopperies,
My Pardons, Holy Unction, nay, my hate,
Which still I vended at so dear a rate,
It made a Bankrupt of a Potentate.
My Excommunications too were grown,
To take them off—
So dear, they would undo a Throne.
Abroad my foolish Fires, my teaching Crowd,
My false Helena's which this See allow'd,
My dear infernal propagators too,
Who taught Religion, that it might undo.
My Priests, my Monks, my Jesuits; nay, all
The Romish Tribe will in this Conflict fall.
This dear Religion which admits all vice,
This Chain which links the wise, doth fools entice,
This Agent fram'd to cheat the souls of men,
The bugbear which this Empress doth condemn,
She, she o'rethrows it; Rome must totter down,
And its luxurious Tribe dread ev'ry frown.
We must be circumscrib'd that liv'd at ease,
And had varieties enough to please;
How shall we, now this grand design is known
And blasted, keep our selves upon the Throne?
24
Seduc'd by what they never understood,
Do vainly hope for an eternal good:
Drawn by that Magnet, our Religion, come
To be unerring prostitutes of Rome.
We or the Sacred Tribe assail the Tree,
And then forgive her loss of Chastity.
These, these great blessings must be snatch'd away;
None but the blind will groap in open day.
If they pluck off but once the Lyons skin,
All will degrade the Ass that's hid within;
So if discover'd by this last defeat,
The Rabble will deride me for a Cheat.
This, this I fear, 'tis this which makes me mourn;
Haste to the holy Tribe, make swift return,
Bear 'em these drops, these liquid Pearly tears,
Bid 'em take heart, and banish all their fears;
Tell 'em—
Another Plot is laid; nay, tell 'em more,
Tell 'em, the Plot's far stronger than before.
The Embryo's hatch'd which Hell shall ne're revoke,
Nor shall it like the last design be broke,
Though it infest the neighbouring world with smoak.
Is this Religion, this the holy Cheat?
Is it for this you're mounted to the seat?
Are you thought good, that are so all o're Vice?
Is your Religion Lust and Avarice?
Guard me, ye Pow'rs, from such a holy evil,
That hurls both soul and body to the Devil.
Is it for this you're mounted to the seat?
Are you thought good, that are so all o're Vice?
Is your Religion Lust and Avarice?
Guard me, ye Pow'rs, from such a holy evil,
That hurls both soul and body to the Devil.
| The Protestants Vade Mecum | |