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. |
Emblem III. The Pope rejoyces in Queen Maries days.
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| VIII. |
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| XII. |
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| XV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
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| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | The Protestants Vade Mecum |  |
10
Emblem III. The Pope rejoyces in Queen Maries days.
Behold, the wicked with their joy run mad,Whilst righteous men are trembling, pale, and sad.
11
Let not him that is deceived trust in vanity, for vanity shall be his recompence.
JOB Chap. 15. v. 31.
What suddain joy is this,
What strange surprize,
What yet unheard-of Bliss,
Produce these great varieties?
It must be so,
Rome has an Empress now
Which doth allow
To the all-saving Pope Supremacy:
That, that's the cause
Of this applause,
And this phantastick vanity.
Rome never laughs, or seems to smile,
Unless
Some secret guile
Layd by the Pope and his ambitious crew,
Have its success,
Though it ten thousand Souls undo:
Souls are but Tennis-balls,
The common sport
Of the Romantick Cardinals,
And all the Court;
About they're bandy'd till that all o'er evil,
For want of money sends them to the Devil.
For Mass, or Pray'r,
He takes no care,
Till Pluto his great god Arrives;
Then with a throng
Of unresistless pray'rs he batters Hell,
And leads the guilty Souls along
No one knows where, nor none can tell.
And thus for Gold, the Devil and the Pope
Deceive mens Souls, till they are damn'd in hope.
If Gold on earth should our Salvation bring,
What need we fear the Thunder of Heav'ns King?
Let Scripture too, as useless be layd by;
Gold is the saving true Divinity.
Poor hood-wink'd fools, to think and vainly hope,
To buy Salvation from th' unerring Pope:
You're blind, misled, and all in darkness move;
No one can pardon sins, but God above.
What strange surprize,
What yet unheard-of Bliss,
Produce these great varieties?
It must be so,
Rome has an Empress now
Which doth allow
To the all-saving Pope Supremacy:
That, that's the cause
Of this applause,
And this phantastick vanity.
Rome never laughs, or seems to smile,
Unless
Some secret guile
Layd by the Pope and his ambitious crew,
Have its success,
Though it ten thousand Souls undo:
Souls are but Tennis-balls,
The common sport
Of the Romantick Cardinals,
And all the Court;
About they're bandy'd till that all o'er evil,
For want of money sends them to the Devil.
For Mass, or Pray'r,
He takes no care,
Till Pluto his great god Arrives;
Then with a throng
Of unresistless pray'rs he batters Hell,
And leads the guilty Souls along
No one knows where, nor none can tell.
And thus for Gold, the Devil and the Pope
Deceive mens Souls, till they are damn'd in hope.
12
What need we fear the Thunder of Heav'ns King?
Let Scripture too, as useless be layd by;
Gold is the saving true Divinity.
Poor hood-wink'd fools, to think and vainly hope,
To buy Salvation from th' unerring Pope:
You're blind, misled, and all in darkness move;
No one can pardon sins, but God above.
| The Protestants Vade Mecum | |