A NEW BALLAD
UPON
The Present Conspiracy
OF THE
PAPISTS:
Sung by BELZEBUB, at a Merry-meeting of the Devils.
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I.
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COme Brother Devils, with full Bowls
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Let us refresh our thirsty souls.
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If there be joy in Heaven when men re-pent;
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Why should not we
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As merry be,
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When thousands to our Regions are sent.
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II.
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And first let's give unto Christs Vicar
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The Supremacy o' th' Liquor.
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Wee'l drink his health, and may his kingdoms grow;
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The farther he
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Extends his See,
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The larger our dominions are below.
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III.
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Of Heaven and Hell Popes have the Keys,
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And damn or save whom e're they please:
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'Tis sign they are our friends, if this be true;
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They send to th' Skies
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Their enemies,
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And let in here only their Popish crue.
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IV.
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Next to our friends the Priests of Mass.
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A Bumper round about shall pass.
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As many proselytes to Hell they win,
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As we trepan
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In tempting man,
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By helping to Indulgencies for sin.
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V.
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Before the day of doom, 'tis said,
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We Devils must be bound and layd:
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But if the Popish-Priests on earth may dwell,
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From tempting we
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May well be free;
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They'l do more harm than all the arts of Hell.
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VI.
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Yet after death these Saints are made,
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And Divine honour to them's paid:
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To them for help the common people cry,
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Oramus vos,
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Servate nos,
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Whilst in these flames they here tormented lye.
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VII.
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But since the name of Saints they gain,
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Who for their Church have felt the pain
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Of transitory earthly fires; then sure
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Much more that name
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The Priests may claim,
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Who for their Church eternal flames endure.
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VIII.
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Oft have I try'd the British-Land
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To re-inslave to Romes command.
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If in that lesser World I had my hopes,
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I'd sing Old Rose,
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And fuddle my Nose;
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The Universe should quickly be the Popes.
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IX.
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Early and late what pains I take
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For th' Catholick Religion's sake,
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Did they but know, me too they'd Canonize:
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My Cloven-foot
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And Horns they'd put
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Among those Reliques that they highest prize.
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X.
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First to conspire, Guy Faux I mov'd,
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Though fatal to himself it prov'd.
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After that upwards to the firmament
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It could not rent
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The Parliament,
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Him downwards to this place the Powder sent.
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XI.
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And at this time to kill the King,
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And Popery again to bring,
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Many I've tempted; if i' th' first they fail,
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A Counterplot
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Still they have got,
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I hope their next attempt may yet prevail.
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XII.
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The French are ready to send o're
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Their Armies to the British-shore.
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To set fresh forces on the English ground
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I have again
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Perswaded Spain,
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Although in eighty-eight their strength it found.
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XIII.
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The English Papists too I'le Arm,
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And they shall rise at the Allarm:
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One blow these forces shall together joyn,
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If Charles they kill,
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I have my will,
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Against the Protestants they shall combine.
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XIV.
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How do I long to see that day,
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When Bibles shall be took away,
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And Popish Legends in their places laid;
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When the Beeds motion
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Shall be devotion,
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And in an unknown tongue Prayers shall be said.
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XV.
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With joy I think upon the time,
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When Whoring shall be thought no crime;
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When Monks and Fryers ev'ry place shall store,
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When Marriage all
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A sin shall call,
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And Images for God they shall adore.
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XVI.
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But by their own Accomplices
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I hear that all detected is.
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Th' impeached Traitors into Goal are thrown,
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Their Arms are found
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Hid underground,
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And all their Letters to the King are known.
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XVII.
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Th' unwelcom news by Staley came,
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Who hansel'd Tiburn for the same.
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With his own hand, had he been longer lived,
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In open day
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The King to slay,
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Raviliac-like, he says he had contrived.
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XVIII.
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O that these puny Rogues I'd got.
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That did relent, and spoil the Plot:
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If it were possible, more cruelty
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I would invent
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Them to torment,
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Than e're was exercis'd on Godfery.
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XIX.
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But since we can't come at these men,
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Let's swinge the rest for trusting them.
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Each of you take his tort'ring instrument;
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With Hangmans Noose
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When life they lose,
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On the Conspirators our spleen wee'l vent.
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XX.
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In the meanwhile 'tis best, I think,
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To make an end of all our drink:
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That when they're come, and in the height of pain
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Their Teeth they gnash,
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And Throats would wash,
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Nothing to cool their Tongues may here remain.
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