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 |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
Emblem XII. The Consult in Whitebreads Chamber.
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
46
Emblem XII. The Consult in Whitebreads Chamber.
What! are the Cockatrices hatching still!Can't blood nor fire satisfie the will,
But Rome must yet Consult of doing ill?
47
Wo unto them that draw Iniquity with cords of Vanity,
and sin as it were with a Cart-rope.
ISAIAH, Chap. 5. v. 18.
Close in debate,
Like angry Fate,
Thrust from the Synod of the Gods they seem;
Each individual brain,
That should contain
Embryo's for good, do still with mischief teem;
Treason and Murder are their darling joys,
And he acts best which most of all destroys.
The close Cabal,
Dreading a fall,
Are now conspiring to preserve their own;
Each speaks his sence,
Blank Impudence,
And still their hope is to enjoy the Throne.
One holds it safe, and consequently good,
At first not to begin with Blood;
But doth advise
Rather with strength,
Which must at length
Protect their many Villanies,
Should any bleed
Before the great and wish'd-for day is come,
The very deed
Would make us all
Untimely fall
A bloody Sacrifice to Rome.
Scarce any good
Can come by blood
That's rash and unadvis'dly spilt;
Besides 'tis poor,
Since thousands more
Must have an equal share i'th' guilt.
Then Whitebread rose,
And did depose,
That 'twas a Meritorious deed
In any one
To gain a Throne,
Although th' unhappy Monarch bleed.
Each Proselyte
That flies from Rome
To the Apostate Church, we always doom
Death and Damnation shall his portion be,
Cause he proclaims its villany.
And our great pillar of Religion hate,
Call us the Executioners of fate.
If this small Convert be
Thus doom'd by Rome,
Requited thus by me,
What shall become
Of him that is all over treachery?
Too late we find
He knew our mind,
And has too long been privy made
To the best deed,
Should he succeed,
That ever villany betray'd.
'Tis yet within our pow'rs to keep it good,
And hide its depth in the rash Converts blood.
Or we, or him, nay all,
Rome too will fall,
If the discoverer survive;
But stop his breath
With suddain death,
Rome and its many Plots may thrive.
To foolish niceness lend not any ear;
He doubts Salvation that's possest with fear.
Scarce had he spoke,
But from 'em broke
An universal shout which reach'd the sky;
Each grac'd the cause
With high applause,
And all pronounc'd he presently should dye.
The happy Convert, happy more to be
The blest discoverer of the villany,
By God directed, bent his steps that way,
And unseen heard,
What most he fear'd,
The Consult of that bloody day.
Amaz'd with fear,
Not daring now to stay,
Fore-warn'd by that, which he had heard 'em say:
To shun the stroak they promis'd was so near,
He moves, and left the Diabolick Consult there.
Like angry Fate,
Thrust from the Synod of the Gods they seem;
Each individual brain,
That should contain
Embryo's for good, do still with mischief teem;
Treason and Murder are their darling joys,
And he acts best which most of all destroys.
The close Cabal,
Dreading a fall,
Are now conspiring to preserve their own;
Each speaks his sence,
Blank Impudence,
And still their hope is to enjoy the Throne.
One holds it safe, and consequently good,
At first not to begin with Blood;
But doth advise
Rather with strength,
Which must at length
Protect their many Villanies,
Should any bleed
Before the great and wish'd-for day is come,
The very deed
Would make us all
Untimely fall
A bloody Sacrifice to Rome.
Scarce any good
Can come by blood
That's rash and unadvis'dly spilt;
Besides 'tis poor,
Since thousands more
Must have an equal share i'th' guilt.
48
And did depose,
That 'twas a Meritorious deed
In any one
To gain a Throne,
Although th' unhappy Monarch bleed.
Each Proselyte
That flies from Rome
To the Apostate Church, we always doom
Death and Damnation shall his portion be,
Cause he proclaims its villany.
And our great pillar of Religion hate,
Call us the Executioners of fate.
If this small Convert be
Thus doom'd by Rome,
Requited thus by me,
What shall become
Of him that is all over treachery?
Too late we find
He knew our mind,
And has too long been privy made
To the best deed,
Should he succeed,
That ever villany betray'd.
'Tis yet within our pow'rs to keep it good,
And hide its depth in the rash Converts blood.
Or we, or him, nay all,
Rome too will fall,
If the discoverer survive;
But stop his breath
With suddain death,
Rome and its many Plots may thrive.
To foolish niceness lend not any ear;
He doubts Salvation that's possest with fear.
Scarce had he spoke,
But from 'em broke
An universal shout which reach'd the sky;
Each grac'd the cause
With high applause,
And all pronounc'd he presently should dye.
49
The blest discoverer of the villany,
By God directed, bent his steps that way,
And unseen heard,
What most he fear'd,
The Consult of that bloody day.
Amaz'd with fear,
Not daring now to stay,
Fore-warn'd by that, which he had heard 'em say:
To shun the stroak they promis'd was so near,
He moves, and left the Diabolick Consult there.
All-seeing Heav'n, the best and blest abode
Of an all-knowing all-forgiving God,
Sends from above a glitt'ring glorious ray,
To mark our paths out in the open day,
And gloomy night, lest we should go astray.
From Wolves and Bears that hourly wait for blood,
From those who never were nor can be good,
He still defends us; Heav'n has put Armor on,
Which still preserves our Monarch on the Throne,
And guards us all,—
From that foul Whorish beast of Babylon.
Of an all-knowing all-forgiving God,
Sends from above a glitt'ring glorious ray,
To mark our paths out in the open day,
And gloomy night, lest we should go astray.
From Wolves and Bears that hourly wait for blood,
From those who never were nor can be good,
He still defends us; Heav'n has put Armor on,
Which still preserves our Monarch on the Throne,
And guards us all,—
From that foul Whorish beast of Babylon.
| The Protestants Vade Mecum | |