THE
Catholick BALLAD:
OR, AN
INVITATION
TO
POPERY,
Upon Considerable Grounds and Reasons.
To the Tune of, Eighty eight.
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SInce Popry of late is so much in debate,
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And great strivings have been to restore it,
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I cannot forbear openly to declare,
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That the Ballad-makers are for it.
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Well dispute no more then, these Heretical Men,
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Have exposed our Books unto laughter,
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So that many do say, twill be the best way,
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To sing for the Cause hereafter.
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O the Catholic Cause! now assist me my Muse,
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now earnestly do I desire thee!
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Neither will I pray to St. Bridget to Day,
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But only to thee to inspire me.
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Whence should Purity come, but from Catholic Rome?
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I wonder much at your folly?
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For St. Peter was there, and left an old Chair,
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Enough to make all the World holy.
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For this sacred old wood, is so excellent good,
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If our Doctors may be believ[e]d,
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That whoever sits there, needs never more fear,
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The danger of being deceived.
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If the Devil himself should (God bless us) get up,
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Though his Nature we know to be Evil,
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Yet whilst he sat there, as divers will swear,
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He would be an infallible Devil.
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Now who sits in the Seat, but our Father the Pope?
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Which is a plain Demonstration
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As clear as Noon-day, we are in a right way,
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And all others are doomd to Damnation.
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If this will not suffice, yet to open your Eyes,
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Which are blinded with bad Education;
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We have Arguments plenty, and Miracles twenty,
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Enough to convince a whole Nation.
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If you give but good heed, you shall see the Host bleed,
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And if any thing can persuade ye,
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An Image shall speak, or at least it shall squeak
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In the honour of our Lady.
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You shall see without doubt, the Devil cast out,
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As of old by Erra Pater;
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He shall skip about and tear like a dancing Bear,
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When he feels the Holy Water.
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If yet doubtful you are, we have Reliques most rare,
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We can shew you the sacred Manger;
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Several loads of the Cross, as good as ere was,
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To preserve your Souls from danger.
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Should I tell you of all it would move a Stone-wall,
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But I spare you a little for pity,
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That each one may prepare, and rub up his [Ear],
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For the Second P[a]rt of my Ditty.
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The Second Part. To the same Tune.
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NOw listen again to those things that remain,
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They are matters of weight, I assure you;
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And the first thing I say, throw your Bibles away,
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Tis impossible else for to cure you.
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O that pestilent Book! never on it more look,
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I wish I could sing it out louder:
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It has done Men more harm, I dare boldly [a]ffirm
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Than th Invention of Guns and Powder.
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As for matters of faith, believe what the Church saith,
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But for Scripture, leave that to the learned;
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For these are Edge-tools, & you Laymen are Fools,
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If you touch them yare sure to be harmed.
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But pray what is it for, ihat you make all this stir?
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You must read, you must hear and be learned:
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If youl be on our part, we will teach you an Art,
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That you need not be so much con[c]erned.
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Be the Churches good Son, and your work is half done,
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After that you may do your own pleasure:
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If your Beads you can tell, and say Ave Mary well,
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Never doubt of the heavenly treasure.
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For the Pope keeps the Keys, and can do what he please,
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And without all peradventure,
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If you cannot at the Fore, yet at the back-Door
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Of Indulgence you may enter.
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But first by the way, you must make a short stay
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At a place called Purgatory,
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Which the Learned us tell, in the builings of Hell,
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Is about the middlemost Story.
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Tis a monstrous hot place and a Mark of disgrace,
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In the Torment ont long to endure:
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None are kept there but fools, and poor pitiful souls
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Who c[a]n no ready Money procure.
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And a handsum round Sum you may quickly begon,
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To the Church has wisely ordeind,
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And they who build Crosses and pay well for Masses,
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Would not there be too long deteind.
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And that tis a plain c[a]se, as the Nose on ones Face,
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They are in the surest condition,
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Since none but poor Fools, & some niggardly Owls,
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And can call into utter perdit[i]on.
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And they faileth you then O y[e] great and rich Men,
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For that you will not hearken to reason,
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And as long as y have pence, y[] need scruple no offence
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For Murther, Adu[l]tery, Treason.
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And ye sweet-natard Women, who hold all things common,
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My addresses to you are most hearty,
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And to give you your due, you are to us most true,
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And we hope we shall gain the whole party.
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If you happen to fall, your Pennance is small,
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And although you cannot forgo it,
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We have for you a cure, if of this you be sure,
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To con[f]ess before you go to it.
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There is one reason yet, which I cannot omit,
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To those who affect the French Nation,
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Hereby we advance the Religion of France,
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The Religion thats only in fashion.
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If these reasons prevail, (as how can they fail?)
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To have Popery entertaind,
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You cannot conceive, and will hardly believe,
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What benefits hence may be gaind.
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For the Pope shall us bless (thats no small happiness)
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And again we shall see restored
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The Italian Trade, which formerly made
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This Land to be so much adored.
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O the Pictures and Rings, the Beads and fine things,
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The good Words as sweet as Honey,
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All this and much more, shall be brought to our Door
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For a little dull English Money.
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Then shall Justice and Love, and whatever can move,
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Be restored again to our Britain:
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And Learning so common, that every old Woman
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Shall say her Prayers in Latin.
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Then the Church shall bear sway, and the State shall obey,
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Which is now lookt upon as a wonder,
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And the proudest of Kings, with all Temporal things,
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Shall submit and trickle under.
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And the Parliament too, who have takn us to do,
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And have handled us with so much Terror;
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May chance on that score (tis no time to say more)
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They may chance to acknowledge their Error.
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If any Man yet, shall have so little Wit,
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As still to be Refractory;
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I swear by the Mass, he is a meer Ass,
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And so theres an end of the Story.
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