University of Virginia Library

A Dialogue between Father Petre and the Devil.

Petre.
O are you come? 'tis more than time;
Your Tardiness is no small Crime:
All our Proceeding's at a stand,
Again they've got the upper hand.
Yet like true Jesuit I have wrought
My Charge up to the height I sought;
Both Sense and Reason quite o'erthrown,
For those we deal with must have none.

Devil.
Is this a Conquest to relate,
Worthy a Jesuitick Pate?
I have more trouble with you had,
Than all the Orders I have made
Besides; I join'd in the Design
One, whose fell Malice equals mine:
One so ambitiously inclin'd,
One of so uncontroul'd a Mind,
That let the Gulph be ne'er so deep,
Or Pyramid prodigious steep,
That if in th'Extremes he can disclose
Any that do his Will oppose,
Tho on just Grounds, they meet their Fate
In violent and unbounded Hate.

Petre.
I did not call you to discourse;
We must do something now by Force.
Our whole Society is shamm'd,
And we in our first Founder damn'd.
Did I, tho to my Soul's Perdition,
Act things more black than my Commission?
Gaining Belief among the Great,
Who forc'd upon themselves the Cheat:
While the good Man I kept at th'Oar,
No Gally-Slave e'er labour'd more.
Nor durst I let him pause upon't,
Lest, if he thought, he should recant;
With puzzling Notions still possess'd him,
At once tormented and caress'd him:
Hoodwink'd the Pilot that should steer us,
With our infallible Chimeras.

Devil.
Boast not as if you'ad Conquest won;
You've started much, but nothing done.
Your Order, wheresoe'er they came,
Have set whole Kingdoms in a flame:
Nor Hell, nor Rome, can give you thanks,
For acting thus a Madman's Pranks.
Did I not always to you preach,
The English would you over-reach?
They'll be convinc'd e'er they believe,
Not pin their Faith upon your Sleeve.
Your publick Chappels have o'erthrown us,
Our very Proselytes disown us,
And face about to t'other side,
Exclaiming 'gainst the Roman Pride.

Petre.