All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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A Jesuite.
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
A Jesuite.
The Argvment.
King-killing Monsters out of Heauens mouth spew'd,Caters, and Butchers, vnto Rome and Hell:
The bane of Youth and Age, in blood imbrew'd:
Perditions gulph, Where all foule Treasons dwell.
Lands, liues, and Soules vnder the sauing stile
Of Iesvs, they deuoure, confound, beguile.
In setting downe this Sect of blood compact,
Me thinkes I see a tragick Sceane in act:
The Stage all hang'd with the sad death of Kings,
From whose bewailing storie sorrow springs.
The Actors dipt in crueltie and blood,
Yet make bad deeds passe in the name of good.
And kindling new Commotions, they conspire
With their hot Zeale, to set whole Realmes on fire,
As 'twas apparent when they did combine,
Against vs, in their fatall Powder-Mine.
All Hell for that blacke Treason was plow'd vp,
And mischiefe dranke deepe of damnations cup:
The whole vast Ocean sea, no harbour grants
To such deuouring greedy Cormorants,
In the wide gulph of their abhorr'd designes
Are thoughts that find no roome in honest mindes.
And now I speake of Rome euen in her Sea,
The Jesuites the dang'rous whirle-pooles be.
Religions are made Waues, that rise and fall
Before the wind or breath Pontificall.
The Pope sends stormes forth, seuers or combines,
According to his mood, it raines or shines;
And who is ready to put all his will
In execution, but the Iesuite still.
Nor hath this Cormerant long tane degree,
For Esacus more ancient is then hee:
Yeares thousands since Troyes sonne he was created,
And from a man but to a Bird translated,
Whereas the Iesuite deriues descent
But from Ignatius Loyala, that went
For a maim'd Spanish souldier, but herein
The difference rises, which hath euer bin:
From Man to Bird, one's chang'd shape began,
The other to a Diuell from a Man.
Yet here in these wide maw'd Esacians,
May well agree with these Ignatians,
First black's the colour of the greedy Fowle,
And black's the Iesuites habite like his soule,
The bird is leane though oft he bee full craw'd,
The Iesuit's hatchet fac'd, and wattle jaw'd,
The Cormorant (as nature best befits)
Still without chewing doth deuoure whole bits,
So Jesuits swallow many a Lordly liuing,
All at a gulp without grace or thankes-giuing.
The birds throat (gaping) without intermission,
Resembles their most cruell Inquisition,
From neither is, Non est redemptio,
For what into the Corm'rants throat doth goe,
Or Jesuits Barrathrum doth once retaine,
It ne're returnes fit for good vse againe.
Eightie yeares since hee stole the Epithite
From Iesvs, to bee call'd a Iesuite.
But I could find him out a style more right,
From Iudas to bee nam'd Iscariotite.
Though Paul the third their title did approue,
Yet he confirm'd their number that aboue
Threescore they should not be, and yet we see,
How much increased now the vipers be,
That many a thousand Christian lyes and grones,
Vnder the slan'ry of these diuelish drones,
And he that knowes but truly what they are,
Will judge a Cormorant's their better farre.
Me thinkes I see a tragick Sceane in act:
The Stage all hang'd with the sad death of Kings,
From whose bewailing storie sorrow springs.
The Actors dipt in crueltie and blood,
Yet make bad deeds passe in the name of good.
And kindling new Commotions, they conspire
With their hot Zeale, to set whole Realmes on fire,
As 'twas apparent when they did combine,
Against vs, in their fatall Powder-Mine.
All Hell for that blacke Treason was plow'd vp,
And mischiefe dranke deepe of damnations cup:
The whole vast Ocean sea, no harbour grants
To such deuouring greedy Cormorants,
In the wide gulph of their abhorr'd designes
Are thoughts that find no roome in honest mindes.
And now I speake of Rome euen in her Sea,
The Jesuites the dang'rous whirle-pooles be.
Religions are made Waues, that rise and fall
Before the wind or breath Pontificall.
The Pope sends stormes forth, seuers or combines,
According to his mood, it raines or shines;
And who is ready to put all his will
In execution, but the Iesuite still.
Nor hath this Cormerant long tane degree,
For Esacus more ancient is then hee:
Yeares thousands since Troyes sonne he was created,
And from a man but to a Bird translated,
Whereas the Iesuite deriues descent
But from Ignatius Loyala, that went
For a maim'd Spanish souldier, but herein
The difference rises, which hath euer bin:
From Man to Bird, one's chang'd shape began,
The other to a Diuell from a Man.
Yet here in these wide maw'd Esacians,
May well agree with these Ignatians,
First black's the colour of the greedy Fowle,
And black's the Iesuites habite like his soule,
The bird is leane though oft he bee full craw'd,
The Iesuit's hatchet fac'd, and wattle jaw'd,
The Cormorant (as nature best befits)
Still without chewing doth deuoure whole bits,
So Jesuits swallow many a Lordly liuing,
All at a gulp without grace or thankes-giuing.
The birds throat (gaping) without intermission,
Resembles their most cruell Inquisition,
From neither is, Non est redemptio,
For what into the Corm'rants throat doth goe,
Or Jesuits Barrathrum doth once retaine,
It ne're returnes fit for good vse againe.
Eightie yeares since hee stole the Epithite
From Iesvs, to bee call'd a Iesuite.
But I could find him out a style more right,
From Iudas to bee nam'd Iscariotite.
3
Yet he confirm'd their number that aboue
Threescore they should not be, and yet we see,
How much increased now the vipers be,
That many a thousand Christian lyes and grones,
Vnder the slan'ry of these diuelish drones,
And he that knowes but truly what they are,
Will judge a Cormorant's their better farre.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |