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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| II. |
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| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
Emblem XXII. Sir George Wakemans Tryal.
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| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
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Emblem XXII. Sir George Wakemans Tryal.
Judges should fan the Cause, not cast the WheatAway, and save th'unworthy Chaff for meat.
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Thou shalt not wrest judgment, thou shalt not respect
persons, neither take a gift: for a gift doth bind the
eyes of the wise, and perverteth the words of the righteous.
DEUTERONOMY, Chap. 16. v. 19.
When the grave Fathers of the Land are met,
both Life and Death before their eyes are set,
Evil and Good, the two great things God gave,
Or Death or Life, Salvation, or a Grave.
But the first Man not thinking of the Crime,
Made choice o'th' wrong, and curst the world that time.
God gave Free-will to choose, or to neglect,
To tast the dang'rous Food, or to reject;
But for a kiss, or some such loving toy,
He lost his Bliss, and all the world its joy,
And brib'd to sin, did all Mankind destroy.
In our first Parent we may all behold,
Her bribe was as effectual then as gold.
Forwarn'd by them, they shun the dang'rous snare,
And let true Justice be their utmost care.
The Cause is great that to their trust is giv'n,
Or Life or Death, or Hell, or glorious Heav'n.
To th'last great day it most resemblance has,
And he's most happy has the justest Cause,
And has done best that is within the Laws.
How in confusion are your Senses hurl'd,
(That huddle of light stuff that plagues the world)
When after death all shall be summon'd there,
Before the great Tribunal to appear,
When 'fore our faces all our Crimes till death,
All the great sins we acted on the Earth,
Shall in black forms like ugly Monsters roul,
And all to testifie against the Soul!
Then with what Tremblings shall they be possest,
Who hear they never shall partake of rest;
Never shall joy nor any blessings tast,
But scorching pangs for pleasure gone and past!
When they shall hear that last and fatal word,
(Breath'd out with fury from an angry Lord,)
Be gone ye wicked to perpetual pain,
Where you for ever shall in flames remain!
But you the blessed few, that did repent,
Or did the business you on earth were sent;
You that in all the little space of breath
Abhorr'd Idolatry, and watch'd for death,
Dealt not in Murder, or allow'd the least
Of ear or thought to th' Babylonean beast;
That never did contrive to propagate,
Or hold Religion up with Blood and hate,
Nor ere Conspir'd against that Sacred thing
I made, and had Anointed for a King;
You're the blest partners of eternal bliss,
But they Companions to hells lowdest hiss.
On earth the Cheat forgiving is unknown,
But here 'tis verifi'd to ev'ry one.
Those num'rous crowds that were on earth forgiv'n,
Have bought Damnation for their Gold, not Heav'n.
both Life and Death before their eyes are set,
Evil and Good, the two great things God gave,
Or Death or Life, Salvation, or a Grave.
But the first Man not thinking of the Crime,
Made choice o'th' wrong, and curst the world that time.
God gave Free-will to choose, or to neglect,
To tast the dang'rous Food, or to reject;
But for a kiss, or some such loving toy,
He lost his Bliss, and all the world its joy,
And brib'd to sin, did all Mankind destroy.
In our first Parent we may all behold,
Her bribe was as effectual then as gold.
Forwarn'd by them, they shun the dang'rous snare,
And let true Justice be their utmost care.
The Cause is great that to their trust is giv'n,
Or Life or Death, or Hell, or glorious Heav'n.
To th'last great day it most resemblance has,
And he's most happy has the justest Cause,
And has done best that is within the Laws.
How in confusion are your Senses hurl'd,
(That huddle of light stuff that plagues the world)
When after death all shall be summon'd there,
Before the great Tribunal to appear,
When 'fore our faces all our Crimes till death,
All the great sins we acted on the Earth,
Shall in black forms like ugly Monsters roul,
And all to testifie against the Soul!
88
Who hear they never shall partake of rest;
Never shall joy nor any blessings tast,
But scorching pangs for pleasure gone and past!
When they shall hear that last and fatal word,
(Breath'd out with fury from an angry Lord,)
Be gone ye wicked to perpetual pain,
Where you for ever shall in flames remain!
But you the blessed few, that did repent,
Or did the business you on earth were sent;
You that in all the little space of breath
Abhorr'd Idolatry, and watch'd for death,
Dealt not in Murder, or allow'd the least
Of ear or thought to th' Babylonean beast;
That never did contrive to propagate,
Or hold Religion up with Blood and hate,
Nor ere Conspir'd against that Sacred thing
I made, and had Anointed for a King;
You're the blest partners of eternal bliss,
But they Companions to hells lowdest hiss.
On earth the Cheat forgiving is unknown,
But here 'tis verifi'd to ev'ry one.
Those num'rous crowds that were on earth forgiv'n,
Have bought Damnation for their Gold, not Heav'n.
Why dost thou, Rome, so much confusion bring,
Or dost so often level at the King?
Why with your dismal Plots which still retort,
Are you so rude thus to surround his Court?
Have y'any hope ever to win the field,
Or think you his firm brest will ever yield?
Work on, dull Mole; 'gainst ev'ry Plot of thine,
We've a new Engineer to Countermine;
All your out-works we have already blown
Into the ayr, or with more strength o'rethrown:
Then draw with hast the scatt'red Legions back,
And save the Rebel-Crew from farther wrack:
So many Pillars of the Churches good
Are and must down,------
'Twill make a drought in Rome of Christians blood.
Or dost so often level at the King?
Why with your dismal Plots which still retort,
Are you so rude thus to surround his Court?
Have y'any hope ever to win the field,
Or think you his firm brest will ever yield?
Work on, dull Mole; 'gainst ev'ry Plot of thine,
We've a new Engineer to Countermine;
All your out-works we have already blown
Into the ayr, or with more strength o'rethrown:
Then draw with hast the scatt'red Legions back,
And save the Rebel-Crew from farther wrack:
So many Pillars of the Churches good
Are and must down,------
'Twill make a drought in Rome of Christians blood.
| The Protestants Vade Mecum | |