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. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
Emblem XXVI. A Dialogue between the Pope, a Devil, and a Jesuite.
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| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
102
Emblem XXVI. A Dialogue between the Pope, a Devil, and a Jesuite.
In this one Emblem you may plainly see,What 'tis that makes the Popes Triplicity:
A grave old Fool, and Jesuite all Evil,
Supports the Papal Crown, with Brother Devil.
103
Woe unto him that buildeth a Town with blood, and astablisheth a City by Iniquity.
HABAKKUK, Chap. 2. v. 12.
Pop.
Hard fate again! curse on your idle toys,
Your Plots that are not fit to frighten boys.
I thought, assisted by your grave advice;
To choak Religion up, and bring in vice;
When to the shame of haughty Rome and me,
They still do trample on Supremacy.
Jes.
'Tis true, the last Plot fayl'd, and well it might,
I knew the dire event before the fight
Your easie Holiness your charge betray'd,
In calling puny Devils to your ayd.
From crowds of Souls that you with ease have dam'd,
You by the scum of Hell are meerly sham'd;
By an unthinking Devil chous'd so plain,
'Twonld move my wonder should you Plot again.
Dev.
How Puny Devil, and the scum of Hell!
Was it for this we mighty Cherubs fell?
Was it for this I planted you in Rome,
And gave into your hands the pow'r to doom?
Summon'd our Chiefs, who did in Council sit,
To guild the name of Fiend with Jesuite?
Did soon pervert the minds of men again,
Until I made you up a num'rous Trayn?
Found you out Friends of vast Estates at last,
Whom to gain popular esteem, as fast
As you, would set upon the bloody cast?
Jes.
All this you did, 'tis true, but to what end,
I but your Conduct blame, your Plot commend.
To those tall Trees they all for safety fled,
But now the Axe is levell'd at the Head.
Supine and tame the Machevillians sit,
And in Confinement curse you cause of it.
104
How can I be of so much ill the chief,
That have wrought Miracles beyond belief?
Did I not harden Coleman's heart till death,
And fed him still with hopes, to lose his breath;
Promis'd a Pardon ev'n that very day
That Justice came to snatch his life away?
Did he recant, or yet confess the Crime?
Pop.
'Tis true, he dy'd as did become the time
And his Religion; for what need he more,
For all his sins I'de pardon'd him before.
Dev.
In spight of that, now at this very hour,
I have his Soul.
(Pop. and Jes.)
How so!
(Dev.)
'Cause when 'twas in his pow'r,
He did not kill the unsuspecting King,
Religions Foe, and Romes Immortal sling.
Pop.
But what's all this to th'business now in hand?
Can he, or you that Monarchs life command?
Your boasted Plots have all successess prov'd,
And through our weakness he's more fear'd and lov'd.
Besides, those hopeful Engines of our State,
That did so lately yield t'untimely fate,
Or fled to shun a universal hate,
Has so impair'd the cause, and dash'd our hope,
The world begins to grumble at a Pope.
Dev.
Heav'n has been shut up long, or wink'd, that we
At length might yet obtain the Sov'raignty.
Make but Proposals such as may avail,
And then Condemn me if I not prevail.
Jes.
How Sir! Proposals? 'tis I think enough
You have the Riffraff of the erring stuff;
The chance by Souls that slink to Hell for fear
They should on earth in Martyrdome appear.
Would you propose reward for villany?
By your leave, Satan, that belongs to me.
You but project and only frame the fact,
Which we th'undaunted Tribe of Jesuits act.
To poyson Kings, or Murther Monarchs, you
Know is not in the pow'r of Hell to do.
105
Ought to pass all the Profits through his hand,
And dole 'em with discretion to the rout,
But pay himself before he gives 'em out.
Nor Pope nor Devil!
Pop.
How, blasphemous, Elf,
Dost thou not know thou speaking dam'st thy self?
Doth not my blood which hourly either drains
Feed his luxurious Soul, and swell the veins?
Has not those num'rous swarms of blinded Souls
I send,—all cram'd and fatned up like fowls?
'Tis true, you Plot, and you, Sir, execute,
But it is I that terminate the suit.
Therefore, upon my self, my self I cast,
I deserve most, that propagate more fast
Than he, whom to please both is dam'd at last.
Jes.
You are our Father, and our earthly good,
And, Sir, to you I'le Sacrifice my blood.
Let your great judgment then the cause decide,
And open justice bend to either side.
Dev.
Who not excepts the first of your Creation,
Shall loose th'Eternal pleasure of Damnation:
Pop.
Then't shall be thus: as I am head, I take
Before they suffer for Religions sake,
All their late purchas'd and long hoarded Ore;
Pay me but that, and I'le exact no more.
Dev.
It shall be yours, and when the blow is giv'n,
I'le keep the Hereticks from entring Heav'n;
Allow no Pardons to the wicked crew,
And it is all I ask for what I do.
Jes.
Their Confiscated Lands bestow on me,
And I'le promote a speedy Massacre.
Pop. Dev.
With full consent we both of us agree.
Jes.
Then thus I'l bind the Popes Supremacy.
Embracing.
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