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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| V. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
Emblem XV. The manner of conveying Sir Edmundbury to Primrose-Hill.
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| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
58
Emblem XV. The manner of conveying Sir Edmundbury to Primrose-Hill.
At Crimes they start not, nor at blood look pale,Nor grieve when any person they assail,
If in their direful projects they prevail.
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The Heavens shall reveal your Iniquities, and the earth shall rise up against you.
JOB, Chap. 20. v. 27.
The deed is done, and the great danger past;
They cry,
Had we ten thousand such as fast,
We might make sure of victory.
Now having hal'd him from the dismal room,
They go to help him to an op'ner Toomb.
Their precepts teach 'em they have done
But half enough;
They must declare their mischiefs to the Sun,
And make their garments whole with other stuff.
They think't imprudence to Inter
The bloody Sacrifice;
But at their Consults they prefer,
Though dead, his name
And spotless fame,
Shall yet be blasted by their villanies.
In order streight,
To act the Prodigies of their debate,
The sacred clay
Of Murther'd Godfrey now is on its way.
They various ways the Martyr'd lump convey
By night,
Not daring to approach the day,
For fear its light
Should much too soon that bloody present give,
Which startled Nature when it did receive.
Safe and unseen they move
To all on Earth;
But he above,
Who snatch'd the holy Martyr's breath,
Prepar'd his veng'ance, though not willing then
To scourge with shame those unrelenting men.
The Vials full, and his great wrath will be,
Though slow, a sure reward for Treachery.
Their charge deliver'd, they again return
As unconcern'd, as if they need not mourn.
Drown'd in full bowls, they wash the guilt away,
And now again appear in open day.
They cry,
Had we ten thousand such as fast,
We might make sure of victory.
Now having hal'd him from the dismal room,
They go to help him to an op'ner Toomb.
Their precepts teach 'em they have done
But half enough;
They must declare their mischiefs to the Sun,
And make their garments whole with other stuff.
They think't imprudence to Inter
The bloody Sacrifice;
But at their Consults they prefer,
Though dead, his name
And spotless fame,
Shall yet be blasted by their villanies.
In order streight,
To act the Prodigies of their debate,
The sacred clay
Of Murther'd Godfrey now is on its way.
They various ways the Martyr'd lump convey
By night,
Not daring to approach the day,
For fear its light
Should much too soon that bloody present give,
Which startled Nature when it did receive.
Safe and unseen they move
To all on Earth;
But he above,
Who snatch'd the holy Martyr's breath,
60
To scourge with shame those unrelenting men.
The Vials full, and his great wrath will be,
Though slow, a sure reward for Treachery.
Their charge deliver'd, they again return
As unconcern'd, as if they need not mourn.
Drown'd in full bowls, they wash the guilt away,
And now again appear in open day.
And do you think Heav'n has forgot the Crime,
Or that he but delaies you for a time?
Has your Religions precepts so confin'd
The Soul,
You feel no sting of Conscience in the mind?
Or has Confession wash'd away the guilt,
And Sacrament clear'd you of th'blood you spilt?
Has your great Patron, the unerring Pope,
Pronounc'd, you shall not suffer by the Rope?
T' must needs be so, he has the fact forgiv'n
On Earth, and promis'd a reward in Heav'n.
But black and dismal will the Moment be,
When you shall launch to vast Eternity.
That dire reward our Saviour doth prepare,
In spight of holy Unction you must bear
In Hell, although you've Hecatombs of Pray'r.
Or that he but delaies you for a time?
Has your Religions precepts so confin'd
The Soul,
You feel no sting of Conscience in the mind?
Or has Confession wash'd away the guilt,
And Sacrament clear'd you of th'blood you spilt?
Has your great Patron, the unerring Pope,
Pronounc'd, you shall not suffer by the Rope?
T' must needs be so, he has the fact forgiv'n
On Earth, and promis'd a reward in Heav'n.
But black and dismal will the Moment be,
When you shall launch to vast Eternity.
That dire reward our Saviour doth prepare,
In spight of holy Unction you must bear
In Hell, although you've Hecatombs of Pray'r.
| The Protestants Vade Mecum | |