University of Virginia Library

A Delicate, Dainty, Damnable DIALOGVE, Between the Devill and a Jesuite.

Devill.
My Deere Adopted Son, since we are met
And in our serious consultation set,
Let us contrive some stratagem most fit,
Our Antient Greatnesse, and deep-searching witt,
Lets lay such plots, may make the World admire,
And ad more fuell to our endlesse fire.

Iesu.
An't please your Gracelesse Maiestie to note
That I, with all the Brethren of my Coate,
Have been the truest Servants unto you,
Wee hold it Iust to give the Devill his due,
Wee have from North to South, from East to West,
Survaid the World, and wee have done our best
In every Province, Realme and Monarchie
T'advance and raise the Papal Dignitie,
And raising That, we understand right well,
Wee doe enlarge your Antient Kingdome Hell.

Devil.
Though Truth and I did ever disagree,
Yet truth I must say, that the Iesuites be
My deerest Servants, they have ever been
My Actors, and my factors (soules to winne)
But now our Cunning is found out, and crost,
And if wee look not to't, all will be lost.

Iesu.
Your Hellhood cannot taxe us (Mighty Prince)
With sleepy idlenesse, or negligence:
Wee have adventured oft in dangers deepe,
To lull the King of Christendome asleepe,
We have made Spaine for us, and Italie,
Poland, and the greatest part of Germanie,
Hungaria, Russia, France, all Catholikes,
(Except a crew of wilfull Hereticks)
Such as will not by our perswasions come,
And be obedient to the Sea of Rome,
The House of Austria, and great Bavarre,
With Brabant, all our owne already are,
But Britaine, Sweaden, and the warlike Dane,
Wee seeke their Ruine, and they worke our Bane,
There is a Parliament in England now,
That all Romes Rights, and Rites do disallow,
And sure the Scots, with them so fast are Knitt,
That (to the Pope) they never will submit,
Wee have done all we could, it plaine appeares
To set them altogether by the eares,
And wee have us'd all meanes how to prevent
All the proceedings of the Parliament,
We have sow'd false distrusts and iealousies,
Mad Tumults, Libells, base reports and Lies;
And over all the Land wee caus'd to flee,
Ten thousand Pamphlets (all as true as Wee.)
And yet we all, as if our wits were Dull'd,
Are in our expectations) meerly Gull'd,
For if we could that Parliament have broken,
Wee had done somthing worthy to be spoken.
But they are all (in Vnitie) so tide,
That all our plots can never them devide.
Which makes us now the out-cast scorne of men,
The Common abicts of each Pasquill's Pen,
And as our VVisdomes have been highly priz'd,
Wee now are greatest Fooles, aod most despis'd;
Wherefore (great Monarke of Eternall Night)
Direct and teach us to regaine our Right,
Inspire us with thy Rare Infernall skill,
And wee obediently will doe thy will.

Dev.
I tell thee Son, that since the first Creation,
I still have wrought the Churches desolation,
The first man made, I taught to disobey
The first borne, his iust Brother how to slay.
Infernally I Sodome did inspire,
Which drew upon them heavens consuming fire,
To righteous Lot, I gave incestuous drinke,
Noah unseemly in his Tent did winke,
I tempted Corah, madly to Rebell,
And hee and his were swallowed quick to Hell,
I had a wedge on Achan to bestow,
A Dallilah, a strong man to o'rethrow,
In Ahabs Reigne, I had Knights of the Post,
When Nabaoths Vineyard, and his life were lost,
The Patriarks, and Prophets, every one,
And my chiefe Enemie, Th'Almighties Sonne
I persecuted to the death, and I,
Have been the cause of all the Tiranny
Inflicted on th'Apostles, and the Ten
First persecuions on so many men,
With Women, Children, as it plaine appeares
In Histories, the first three hundred yeeres,
I in the Marrian Time did Havock make
In England, Thousands were consum'd at stake,
The massacres in France, I form'd and wrought,
And thousand Protestants to death I brought,
Two Henries, Kings of France, both murdered,
And William, Prince of Aurenge, pistol'd dead,
Duke D'Alva, vex'd the Netherlanders too,
And Tiranniz'd as bad as I could doe,
The plot of eighty eight I did proiect,
(A vengeance light on't, 'thad but bad effect)
And I the Powder Treason first did mint,
Although we had but scurvy fortune in't.
These have I done, and mischiefes millions more,
And yet I have not empted all my store.

Ies.
Great Emperour of Darknesse, briefly then,
Seeke to confound the Scots and English men,
They are our greatest and our hatefull'st foes,
Of all our Enemies, none like to those.
The Hollanders of Amsterdam, or Delfe,
Their faith is much indifferent (like my selfe)
As for Religion, so it bring in profit,
Let it be what it will, they thinke not of it:
Geneva is a little paltry Plot,
That hath all Romish duty quite forgot;
But Britaine is the Magazen of them,
That will tread downe the Papall Diadem,
Therefore against them all your forces call,
For if you conquer them, you have won all.

Dev.
My pen posts (Libels) my learned Scribes
Ile set a work, and I will fill with Bribes;
The hands of Iustice, Gold shall cleare, or bleare
His eyes, and stop her eares, she shall not heare,
Suspitious Ielousies, Ile frame, and fling,
Shall breed distaste 'twixt Subiects and the King,
That though they all meane well, Ile make a puther,
They scarcely shall beleeve, or trust each other:
I in the Church will such division sow,
Which shall goe neere the Church to overthrow:
Ile scatter strange Hreticall opinions,
In every corner of the Lands Dominions,
That those that see the madnesse of their Braines,
Shall thinke the Devill is in them, taking paines,
Like Hidraes heads, I'le make complaints encrease
That shall disturbe the King and Kingdomes peace;
In every corner, I such strife will scatter,
That it shall seeme a Poole of troubled water,
Besides, my Irish Sons (the great O Donnell)
With his stout Kernes, and noble stout Tirconnell:
These with great troopes of Rebells, I will reare,
That shall disturbe and worke much mischiefe there.
A Proverb saies, He that will England winne,
He boldly first (with Ireland must begin,)
And there already, I have so begun,
That I doubt not our will, will there be done.
Thus (Fencer-like) my aime and stroke is wide,
I strike at England, quite through Irelands side.

Ies.
Could you make England like to Germany,
A Field of bloud, a Land of misery,
A grizly Golgatha of Dead Mens Bones,
An Empire wasted, full of sighes and groanes:
Your plots and ours, there twenty yeares have lasted,
In halfe that time all Brittaine may be wasted;
We (of our holy Order) have instill'd,
Such counsell into Cesars eares, which fill'd
His Royall heart with wrath, his minde with error,
All Christendome with horror, griefe and terror:
Bavariaes Duke we (as we pleas'd) did mold,
We drave the Palsgrave from Bohemias Hold,
(For never Prince did our Enchantments hear,
But he was straight wayes ours, through love or feare)
We are their Confessors, we know their mind,
And at our pleasure. can them turne and winde,
They doe confesse themselves to us, and we
Doe know their secrets, and their Masters be,
Yet though (like Kings) we rule and Raigne,
The King of Brittaine we shall never gaine,
He tearmes us vassals to the Romish Whore,
And scornes us, as his Father did before.

Dev.
Well, since we cannot win him, this wee'l doe,
Wee'l trouble him, and all his people too,
And we have reason for't, for he of late,
A match with Aurange Son did consumate,
And his faire Daughter, sure that marriage may
Prove crosse to our proceedings many a way,
For if Nassaw had not led Belgias powers,
The Butter Boxes, had long since bin ours;
Could'st thou have crost that Marriage, thou hadst done
A worke most worthy to be call'd my son.

Ies.
The newes of it amongst us was so bad,
At Doway, and at Antwerp all were mad,
But could not hinder't, there's a power supernall,
That countermands our pollices infernall;
And since we cannot win what we intend,
Let us continually our forces bend,
That what we cannot gaine with care and toyle,
We may disturb, vex, ruinate, and spoyle.

Dev.
Ile fill the Cinque Ports of the Isle of Man
With mallice and with mischiefe all I can,
I will mens fancies with such humours fit,
They shall want time to think on grace, or wit,
Ile kil their loves, and for it give them scornes,
That all shall kicke the man whom Fortune spurnes,
Fantasticke toyes within their pates shall gingle,
And truth with falshood they shall brew and mingle,
Ile make the World of such an od condition,
Ile turn it to foole, feather, or Physitian,
This can I can doe and take but little paine,
'Tis but to doe my old worke o're againe,
So farewell Son, let's once againe begin
To doe some mischiefe where we cannot win.

Ies.
I have a short complaint few yeares agon,
A Latine Annagram I look'd upon;
Against the Pope most knavishly 'tis writ,
Ile read it, and you can interpret it.

Dev.
This gives your Holy Father a shrewd knock,
It sayes he is not fixed on a Rock:
Let him fix where he can, let's make an end,
As long as hee'l serve me, I am his friend.