Religious Reliques,
Or, the SALE at the SAVOY; upon the JESUITS breaking up
their SCHOOL and CHAPPEL.
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[1]
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LAst Sunday, by chance,
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I encounter'd with Prance,
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That Man of upright Coversation,
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Who told me such News,
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That I cou'd not chuse
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But laugh at his sad Declaration.
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[2]
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Says he, if you'l go,
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You shall see such a show
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Of Reliques expos'd to be sold,
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Which from Sin and Disease,
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Will purge all that please
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To lay out their Silver and Gold.
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[3]
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Straight with him I went,
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Being Zealously bent,
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Where for sixpence the Man let me in;
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But the Croud was so great,
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I was all in a sweat,
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Before the Rare show did begin.
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[5]
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The Curtain being drawn,
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Which I think was of Lawn,
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The Priest cross'd himself thrice, and Bow'd;
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Then with a sowre Face,
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Denoting his Case,
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He address'd himself thus to the Crow'd.
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[5]
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You see our sad state,
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a folly to prate,
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Our Church and our Cause is a-ground;
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So in short, if you've Gold,
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Here is to be sold
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For a Guiny, the worth of Ten Pound.
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[6]
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Here's St. Jamess old Bottle,
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It holds just a Pottle,
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With the Pilgrims Habit he wore;
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The same Scollop-shells,
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As our Holy Church tells,
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Who denys it's the Son of a Wh------
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[7]
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Here's a piece of the Bag,
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By age turn'd to a Rag,
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In which Judas the Money did bear;
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With part of his Rope,
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Bequeath'd to the Pope,
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As an Antidote 'gainst all despair.
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[8]
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Here's a Rib of St. Laurence,
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also at Florence,
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And it may be in France or in Spain;
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It cures Stone and Gravel,
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And Women in Travel,
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It delivers without any Pain.
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[9]
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Here's St. Josephs old Coat,
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Though scarce worth a Groat,
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Its plainness does shew he'd no Pride;
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Yet this he had on,
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For besides it he'd none,
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The day that he marry'd his Bride.
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[10]
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His Breeches are there,
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A plain Leather Pair,
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Come buy the whole Suit, if you please;
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They'l defend you from th' Itch,
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From Hag and from Witch,
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And preserve you from Buggs and from Fleas.
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[11]
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Here's the Gall of a Saint,
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For such as do faint,
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Or are troubled with Fits of the Mother;
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Nay, if your Breath stink,
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Worse than Close-stool or Sink,
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It will cure you as soon as the other.
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[12]
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Here's a Prayer of Pope John,
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The like to't is none,
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If you say it but three times a year;
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Three hundred in grace,
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And three hundred 'twill place
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In Heaven, if they ever come there.
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[13]
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Here's our Ladies old shoo,
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Which in Old-time was new,
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It will cure all your Kibes and your Corns;
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With the Coif of St. Bridget,
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To be worn by each Ideot,
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Whose Head is tormented with Horns.
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[14]
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Here's a Bottle of Tears,
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Preserv'd many years,
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Of Mary's that once was a Sinner;
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Some o'th' Fish and the Bread,
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That the five Thousand fed,
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Which our Saviour invited to dinner.
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[15]
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Here's St. Francis own Cord,
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You may take't on my Word,
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Who dies in it cannot be damn'd;
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Do but buy it and try,
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If I tell you a Lye,
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Many Thousands of Heav'n are shamm'd.
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[16]
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Here's his Holiness's Beard,
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Of whom you have heard,
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That the Hereticks called Pope Joan;
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Yet this I dare swear,
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Was his Natural Hair,
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Or else I'll be sworn he had none.
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[17]
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Its Vertue is such,
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That if it does touch
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Your head, or your Face, or else-where,
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It does strait-way restore,
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More than e're was before,
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Though by Age, or by Action worn bare.
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[18]
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Here's St. Christophers Boot,
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For his Right Leg and Foot,
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Which he wore when he ply'd at the Ferry;
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When on's shoulders he bore
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His Blessed Lord o're,
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For the Poor Man had never a Wherry.
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[19]
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Such as sail on the Seas,
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I am sure it will please,
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For its parallel never was found;
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Neither Tempest nor Storm,
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Can e're do 'em harm;
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Nor is't possible they should be drown'd.
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[20]
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Here's infinite more,
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I have by me in store,
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All which lie conceal'd in this Hamper;
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Either buy 'em today,
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Or I'll throw 'em away,
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For tomorrow, by Heav'n, I'll scamper.
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[21]
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Our Market is done,
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We must shut up at Noon,
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We expect 'em each hour at the door;
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We are hang'd if we stay,
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And we can't get away,
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For none will, nor dare to carry us o're.
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[22]
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But by th'Faith of a Priest,
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This is no time to jest,
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Since we're Baulk'd in our great Expectation;
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Before I will Swing,
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Like a Dog in a string,
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I'll Renounce the Transubstantiation.
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