A PENSIVE soul's delight.  
The Contents whereof, is shown in these Verses following.  

1.  
The Pensive soul recounteth in this place,  
Eliza's troubles, and Eliza's grace.   

2.  
Here are expressed the stratagems of foes,  
Eliza's conquests, and their falls that rose.   

3.  
Here is set forth Eliza's lenity,  
And Locust-Catholickes superbity.   
By john Norden.  
LONDON Printed by T.C. for William Lugger, and are to be sold at the sign of the blind Knight, over against S. Andrew's Church in Holborn. 1603.   

TO THE RIGHT Honourable and virtuous Lady the Countess of Warwick.  
IF I were demanded (Right Honourable) I could yield a reason why I give your Ladyship this little plain Poem, under the title of a Pensive Souls delight, but that your Ladyship is not altogether unacquainted with some causes that may right well work me pensive. The cause is noted and observed of many, but felt of myself and mine only. The cause of my delight is public, common, and known to all, but felt (with effect) of the faithful and loyal only. Can any faithful soul but sigh (my good Lady,) to see and consider, the sundry dangers, that have been, and are daily plotted and practised, against her highness most innocent person, and Royal state? And again, can any, but rejoice and delight to see her still blessed & defended, and the practisers still found out, censured and condemned? And who seeth without pensiveness and sorrow, her majesties native subjects, our own countrymen, brethren and kindred, to become Traitors, to their, and our most gracious Queen, & treacherous to us their countrymen & allies? And again, rejoiceth not to see & observe, how all their devices come to nought, her Majesty preserved, & ourselves delivered? And again, who grieveth not to consider from whom these practices and the grounds of these treasons proceed? From a man pretending to be the high and sole Vicar of Christ in earth, who cannot err in his purposes and proceedings, because they are all covered, (even murders of innocent men, yea Princes, raising war within, and between kingdoms,) with the pretence of religion and glorifying God, the highest point of blasphemy. But who rejoiceth not to see him discovered Antichrist, the man of sin? and his undermining and treasonable messengers, Locusts? And who rejoiceth not to see them in some measure abandoned, sith they will not be reclaimed? But more, who rejoiceth not to see and consider her majesties immovable constancy, in loving, in embracing, and in maintaining the infallible truth? and ourselves under her, and by her, to enjoy the same? A subject worthy of a more serious labour. But because many worthy works are extant of their discovery, some too great of price for poor men, and some too learned for the simple. And such serious Treatises often neglected, because they delight not all humours, I thought it not unfit to put the inferior multitude in mind, in this kind of writing, what causes they have to sigh and to sing, to grieve and rejoice: And that with me they may have all will, as they have cause, to pray for the continuance of the true causes of our rejoicing, the maintenance of Religion, and preservation of her highness. The length of days, vouchsafe her length of days: the Lion of judah rend her enemies in pieces: And high jehovah, grant that under her we may all live in true love, towards her, that loveth him, who in his love gave her to us. That we in her might rather sorrow to see the falls of traitors in charity, than traitors to triumph in the success of their attempts in insolency.  
Your Ladyships in all service, john Norden.   


A Pensive Souls delight, 1.  
The Pensive Soul recounteth in this place,  
Eliza's troubles, and Eliza's grace.  

MY Pensive Soul recounting heavenly love,  
which did bestow that sacred hidden treasure,  
Truths light to shine, to us here, from above:  
Cannot but joy, to see Ioues mercies measure,  
Passing in greatness all this earthly frame,  
It fills our hearts with science of his name,  
Which is we love, we live as he requires:  
He sends his word, to work in us inspires  
of his true light. Look up from whence it came.   

Came it from man? came it from wisdoms skill?  
Came it by art? came it from multitude?  
No, no: it came from his all sacred will,  
That willed our wealth and true beatitude.  
Long, long shut up in dark oblivions den,  
And fettered long, through ignorance of men.  
Dark Ignorance, sire of Devotion,  
Blind zeal, blind love, both malediction,  
As is discovered by Truths sacred pen.   

How so the pens of men not lightened write,  
Bewitched with false inspires, inspired in those  
That follow fancy, all deprived of light:  
Despiteful hearts, that kill and seem no foes,  
Like friends, in fawns, foes under faithless smiles,  
Whose graceless guise seems graceful, yet but wiles  
That win affection to perdition,  
And seem yet sacred, and of fowl condition,  
Without all-haile: within mortal reviles.   

I wail these wights that wander in the dark,  
Led by the beast, that trains great troops to hell,  
And seeks to sink sacred Religion's Bark,  
By his enchants, charmed in his hideous cell:  
But he fowl fiend, and faithless to great jove,  
Hath long breathed ban 'gainst Messiahs love,  
Eliza Queen, the prop of verity,  
That still stands up, a Queen of victory,  
Whom all his wiles and curses cannot move.   

They cannot move the mountains of our Peace,  
Eliza's truth, whose sacred hearts desire,  
Desired and wrought, that heavenly Truths release,  
That lay forlorn, long languishing in briars:  
She brought to light the load star of our light,  
And loosed the bands of Envy by her might,  
Her might made mighty, by Ioues mighty hand,  
That heaved her up triumphant in this land:  
Fearful to foes, rejoicing to the right.   

Rejoice ye righteous and resound her praise,  
Praise great jehovah for her Majesty,  
He, he received her, in her pensive days,  
Not far from death, held in captivity:  
A captive Lady of a free-full mind  
Free, and in favour nought can true love bind.  
Her Love was Truth, her truth and love were right,  
jove rightly saw her, and her loves delight.  
Truth and loves light were sacredly combined.   

All sacred Virtues, did combine in one,  
One Grace divine was guide unto them all:  
In her all working when she was alone,  
(Alone in company Angelical)  
Heavens Angels spread their still protecting tent,  
And guard her sacred person innocent.  
Grace's divine administered true joy  
In her deemed joyless state, nought could annoy  
Her blessed patience in imprisonment.   

But oh true Lady, how could griefs retire?  
When she recounted why she was restrained?  
And eke by whom? by her sole sister's ire:  
What heart could hold (so innocent) disdained?  
disdained to live, her life obscured in hate:  
Was hateful to unhappy hearts where Envy sat.  
But sacred Love gave life and light to her,  
And brought her life to light, and did transfer  
Death's dreadful sting unto the obstinate.   

And on their Queen, whom our Eliza loved  
Her life as love, her love assurance set  
On high jehovah's love: he her approved,  
And gave her light to miss fowl envies net,  
That was displayed to catch Eliza in.  
Suggests were, as if she pretended sin  
Against anointed Mary and her crown:  
From which Eliza would bring Mary down,  
And set herself by force usurped therein.   

Fie on this gloss, that paints this false suggest,  
A forged surmise, that fell before her eyes,  
That still attended high jehovah's hest:  
She saw it fall, none saw it yet arise.  
It might arise, but could not erst prevail,  
Though envies hearts and hands gave oft assail:  
In hope to see her sacred life dissolved,  
She not dismayed, assured stood resolved  
High jove would free her, and would be her bail.   

He bailed her in the action of their hate,  
Where they suggest, her hate unto the Queen,  
And that she covertly envied the state,  
Her foes made show, as if this had been seen:  
And dazed the eyes of silly people's minds  
With false reports: like error often blinds  
The vulgar multitude, who think all true  
That Statesmen speak, as if it were in view.  
High policy of purpose blows such winds.   

Such winds, as blow content, or bring dismay,  
Sometimes are raised, and do disperse a thing  
Throughout a kingdom: So they made their way  
To cause Eliza's ill's suggested ring:  
Yet she true Lady, sit and smiled to see  
Despite displayed, and axe laid to the tree  
To cut her down for providence divine,  
Who sways the axe, reverted spites repine  
From her to them, and set her Lady free.   

Her foes repined at her, not for her crime,  
But saw her light that would bewray their sin:  
The sire of sin then egged them on, in time  
To cut her off, if they the game would win.  
But sire and sons, sons of perdition,  
Wrought not Eliza's, but their own perdition.  
And she not seeking found the way, and rose  
Unto the Crown, a gall unto her foes,  
She bound, jove gave her manumission.   

And sealed it with the death and quick confusion  
Of greatest foes within Realm and without:  
Poole Cardinal, sent from Romish Babylon,  
Arch-Atheist Gardener, and an ugly rout  
Of bloody Tyrants that had sword in hand,  
And cut truths throat, with their foul envies band,  
Where soon cut off, with their own bloody knife  
Which they had whet to reave Eliza's life,  
As they did all religious in the land.   

Oh deepest wisdom of the powers divine!  
Oh highest power, of high jehovah seen  
In so preserving powerful Henry's line,  
Well near untwisted in the Mary Queen:  
By whom some sought as much as in them lay,  
Eliza's ruin, had not God said nay,  
And yea to her preserving, when authority  
Consented to dispatch her Majesty  
Of Truth and true Religion, counter-stay.   

Her famous Father to the worlds admire,  
First foiled Romish Pharaoh in the field:  
When pharoh's troops were near him, and in Ire  
A miracle to make proud Pharaoh yield.  
Yet lo perforce he lost his golden fame  
Within this Realm, thrice happy, if his name  
Had died likewise, drowned in, oblivion  
And not have lived here, father of sedition,  
The nurse of Envy, and the gulf of shame.   

Then hopeful Edward did succeed to reign,  
Truths prop, and seeks to keep Rome's Sceptre down·  
High jove him saw, but lo, he did not deign  
To leave him long, but took him from the crown,  
And from us thankless, for the Truth he sent  
By Henry's hand: wherein, we negligent  
Were reft of him, and of the lively light,  
And then came darkness and a dismal night  
Wherein we saw not where Religion went.   

But by the blood of Martyrs that was shed  
Throughout the land, to put out Truths true light  
That then did shine as Sun eclipsed red:  
Yet cast clear beams, upon each faithful wight:  
Whose truth was tried, their trials did express  
Their lively Love; though many made recess  
And fell again into that ugly den  
Of dark deceit, devouring souls of men  
In filthy puddle, of frail human guess.   

Poor souls bewitched, with enchanted zeal  
Fell back, and banished their true saving guide,  
That guides by grace, and not by fond reveal  
Of giddy heads, that live and lead.  
And Mary Queen, alas my soul bewails  
That her high virtues had so strong assails  
That she was won, to kill the silly sheep  
That were committed to her charge to keep,  
Her Clergy rend them with their wolvish nails.   

These ugly beasts attired yet like lambs,  
Lay fawning like the Fox, that plays, and prays,  
They played & prayed, on young ones & their dambes:  
If fawns could not, they add fierce fiery rays.  
To race through Rage and Rigour of the sword,  
men's true desires of loves light and Truths word.  
This Love, this Light, this Truth jehovah sent  
By Henry's hand and Edward's, while he lent  
Him life, and while he was fair England's Lord.   

But happy Henry, and truths Edward gone,  
The graceful guides, and pillars that up-staid  
Religion's frame, a third arose anon,  
That broke the building that these graceful laid,  
She pulled it down, and did erect the stage  
Whereon was played the tragedy of rage:  
It stood not long, the Actors parts were done,  
And they went out, Eliza's part begun,  
And all applaud her, and her equipage.   

Began it now? a part she played before,  
Not of an Agent, but a patient▪  
She silent sat, and heard the Lions roar,  
Like captived Daniel in a dreadful tent.  
Her part was not like daughter of a King,  
To whom All hail, the truest subjects bring.  
Curtains were drawn to sit in all men's view,  
Prince like attended: She with bloody crew  
Guarded as guilty. covered with loves wing.   

She foundes her faith not on the sons of men,  
Not on frail flesh, not on the multitude,  
Not on the sword not on great wisdoms pen:  
But on jehovah Prince of Fortitude.  
Fore him she falls, to him in faith she cries,  
On him she hopes, he on her cast his eyes.  
He spread the beams of his relieving love,  
On her distressed, but elected Dove:  
On her he made his saving Sun to rise.   

His heavenly dove, divinely soared from high  
With his swift sacred wings, and did inspire  
True trust in her, unseen of human eye:  
His sacred Dove once come, did not retire,  
But did possess her, made his bower her breast,  
With sacred virtues there he built his nest:  
And there begat all graces heavenly,  
That branch and bear true fruits of sanctity,  
Presaging first, now show Eliza blest.   

The more her virtues seemed to fit the crown,  
The more did Envy seek to blemish it,  
There want no hearts, but hands to pull her down:  
Yet aimed their malice, but it could not hit,  
Her guard was sure, her Armour enuy-proofe,  
Her friends yet fear, and fearful stand aloof  
Sad, gave but aim at th'arrows of despite,  
Which flew abroad, not any on her light.  
Her light did shine and shrouded her reproof.   

And powers divine, divinely made the way,  
Cut down the tree that hindered her to pass,  
The tree cut down, the branches broken lay,  
Dispersed, forlorn; and all fowl envies Mass  
Became a Chaos and a limbless lump,  
Nought stood to stop her, but fowl envies stump,  
That sprowted still and bare the leaves of spite:  
Truths Sun then shone and withered their delight.  
And they discovered, lay as in a dump.   

When Mary Queen, deprived of life was gone,  
Then busy heads breathed scruples into men:  
For Princes dead, then wakes Ambition,  
And ugly strife starts out of hideous den,  
And sows sedition 'mongst the multitude.  
Suggesting in success sad servitude:  
Though our Eliza heir apparent stood,  
There wanted not of that enchanted brood:  
That argue in her sex small fortitude.   

Among all other doubts, the difference  
Then in Religion, seemed greatest let:  
And had it not been heavens providence  
That sways men's minds, and concord set,  
It might have raised in Realm sad mutiny,  
But great Eliza's magnanimity  
conjoined with love, made all applaud her reign:  
And Mary dead, they all do show them fain  
To see Eliza in her dignity.   

Self day of Mary's death 
〈…〉 Novem. 1558.  she was proclaimed  
With greatest joy fair England's Queen:  
Although to let it, still foul Envy aimed  
Without prevail, the gall of hearts were seen.  
The Trumpet sounded, men for joy did smile,  
And gave true signs of joy for Rome's exile.  
That held Truth captive, by Eliza freed,  
Who brought in sowers of that sacred seed:  
That soon grew great, and branched in a while.   

And she true Lady lifted to the crown,  
joys not so much in her high honours throne,  
As in the bringing of fowl Envy down,  
That then aloft, imposed cause of moan  
On men then moved, and did retain the light  
That shone as stars in that dark ugly night:  
Which had eclipsed all the Realm throughout,  
That none could see Truths sun (dark round about)  
Yet some in darkness, did continue bright.   

Though when their beams, were brightly seen to shine,  
The wolves that wandered for their pray them found  
And them devoured, or clapped in dismal shrine,  
Fast tie, until Eliza them unbound,  
And brought them forth unto the light of Sun,  
And oped truths book. A world to see men run  
To hear and learn the truth long kept from view,  
Forlorn, forsaken, of that dreadful crew:  
Now all embrace Eliza's work begun.   

And then begun her fruits of faith be seen,  
And publicly she made her loves protest:  
Ere she assumed the Sceptre of a Queen,  
She would through jove, give church distressed rest,  
And rest herself on his all sacred power,  
Which well she witnessed coming from the Tower:  
Before she did set forward, lifts her eyes,  
Gives praise to him in whom all safety lies:  
Her strong pavilion, and her saving bower.   

To him with heart and humble voice she gave  
All laud for love, wherein he had preserved  
Her self from death, her person from the grave,  
To see that joyful day, yet not deserved  
She did confess, his mercies only raised  
Her from her dangers. And as David praised,  
She praised his name: This argument of grace,  
Gave graceful tokens, to adorn the place,  
The regal throne. Her foes saw it and gaysed.   

They gaysed and grieved to see the splending rays  
Of great Eliza's fame spread far and near:  
Their eyes of spite gave aim unto her ways.  
She wavered not, her virtues shined clear,  
The Sunny beam, of high jehovahes love,  
Led her aright. All her delight above,  
Not in earths glory, which might lead awry,  
She had Truths touch and Image in her eye,  
Which no delight or fancy could remove.   

In this Truths constant state Eliza stood,  
A lively mirror set before our eyes:  
And still she stands, Nurse and gives the food  
To Jacob's line, in whom life's promise lies.  
Oh great Eliza whom the powers divine  
Divinely held, from falling, by loves line  
She holds the line, whereon dependeth peace,  
Truths peace and plenty, and sad wars decease,  
Or else preserves when foes in force combine.   

As hath appeared in her Royal days,  
When troops of troubles have presented fear  
By force in field, by secret spites essays  
By Magic Art. and poisons: who did bear  
Preserving stroke, but high jehovah's hand,  
He will preserve, were troubles as the sand,  
As will the sequel of this work declare,  
Wherein some practices described are  
As were prepared her, though they could not stand.    

A Pensive soul's delight.  
Here are expressed the startagems of foes,  
Eliza's conquests, and their falls that rose.  

TAke off the vail, and open your dimmed eyes,  
All ye seduced, by the man of sin:  
Conceive aright, consider whence do rise,  
And where the dangers of this Realm begin.  
Look into Rome, the pillar of your pride,  
And flatter not the things should be envied:  
As treasons, murders, and conspiracies,  
Dreadful Invasions, and sad miseries.  
These are her fruit, they cannot be denied.   

Can thirst for blood, stand with Religion?  
Can hateful murder, crave a recompense?  
Then holy writ is but a fiction:  
tween sin and sanctity no difference,  
To murder Princes, meritorious:  
A work, that makes the worker glorious.  
Is't faith by works, or works by faith they show  
In shedding blood? and seeking overthrow  
Of Prince and people? a thing most odious.   

How did Pope Paul the fourth, fawn on the French,  
And fed their second Francis with desire  
By force, to mount fair England's Regal bench,  
Who was with ease invited to aspire  
In Mary's name, his Queen, & Queen of Scots?  
He did pretend with sword to solve the knots  
That rightly knit Eliza to the Crown.  
But right by force, is seldom seen pulled down,  
Nor for her right Eliza would cast lots.   

As Paul pretends in sentencing our Queen,  
No Queen, French Francis in conceit was King:  
And styled him King, as if he King had been:  
And Francis soaring by ambitious wing,  
Eggd by the Guise, did send his force with speed  
To Scotland, (English Papists first were feed  
To aid the French) and thence the Realm t'invade,  
A match but half, not by both parties made.  
Though strong conceit might think it won indeed.   

But when Eliza saw French Francis rise,  
And fetch his run to leap into her Land:  
She knew the practice of seditious Guise,  
On whose aspiring wiles the King did stand.  
The Pope, the King, and Papists stood  
Combined in one, in hot aspiring mood.  
And our Eliza lately raised, beheld  
This play begun, Ensigns displayed in field,  
She not dismayed, nor fearing envies brood.   

But soon consulted with Nobility,  
Resolved, and sent her warlike forces hence:  
They passed the Tweed in magnanimity,  
As eager of their Queens and realms defence.  
The French were to the Scots unwelcome guests,  
Therefore the Scots made English high protests,  
To join their forces to the English bands,  
A Realm with Realm, in love combined stands,  
far more secure, than it disiuncted rests.   

But when the French had view of English force,  
And saw Eliza's love had won the Scots,  
The French dismay, and sue for quick divorce,  
Wishing Pope Paul were present at the lots,  
Where he with his unwonted warlike train,  
Had seen sad sorrow, sequel of disdain,  
That erst disdained Eliza's Diadem,  
To take it off, and rob her of her Realm:  
And expedition plotted by his brain.   

The French saw ruin right before their eyes,  
If they should buckle by the dint of sword,  
A dreadful mist of fear on them did rise,  
And they sought peace by plain submissive word,  
And yielded rather to return with shame,  
Then enter combat for the cause they came.  
So Solon-Cecill and grave Wotton went  
And gave them parley, and the consequent  
Did wholly tend to great Eliza's fame.   

The King and Queen of Scots and France should leave  
The arms and titles of Eliza's Realms,  
By them usurped, to which Pope Paul did heave  
With English gems to deck their diadeames,  
And further yielded their submission,  
As did Eliza set condition.  
What greater honour could succeed then this?  
What greater victory than yielding is?  
A regal guise to have compassion.   

Here were three virtues in Eliza found,  
Her true and constant Magnanimity,  
Her frank Compassion, and her Wisdom sound,  
All priest at once, confirmed her dignity.  
From whom have sprung the dangers of our Queen?  
From whence have all fowl envies working been?  
But from the fountain of that poisoned well,  
Of Romish bishops, and their cursed cell?  
Where are fell Furies and fowl Monsters seen.   

Did not Pope Pius quartus who succeeds  
The former Paul, appear like venomous?  
And did he not sow here seditious seeds?  
And did not again Pope Pius quintus,  
Succeeding him gave tokens of despite?  
Who did her sacred Majesty endue  
With his fowl Bull, that came with ugly roar,  
Into this land, her Highness to unmoare,  
And to bereave this Kingdom of her light.   

And did he not dispense with fealty,  
That English Nobles and her subjects swore,  
And plainly plighted to her Majesty?  
And stirred he not the Northern Lords, to gore  
Her highness liege-men with his filthy Bull?  
Though he prevailed not, his horns were dull,  
Yet did his complices obey his hest,  
And raised their force, the Pope to reinvest  
Whence he was driven, their hearts of gall were full.   

Full of despite, breathed on them by that beast,  
That bellowed horror to the silly sheep,  
Whose blood they sought to make their envies feast.  
But he that gave these silly ones to keep,  
To great Eliza gave, Eliza will  
And power, she suffered not the Wolves to kill  
Her lambs, but sent her saving herdsmen hence.  
Sussex and Warwick, who were their defence.  
At whose advent, the Bull failed of his skill.   

And failing fled: An ugly sight to see  
A beast dismembered, not by butcher's knife:  
The head amazed did fly: the horns too free,  
Broke off. The members do despair of life.  
Head hastes to Scotland, left the bulk behind,  
The body, arms, and legs were discombinde.  
And suddenly captived, subdued or yield,  
Deprived of hope, (as men disarmde in field.  
See now their error, led before as blind.   

Some of the train had justly doom to die,  
Most did implore, and got Eliza's grace,  
And yet not one could reason justify,  
As sit to live, of this rebellious race:  
All virtues do attend Eliza's train,  
Valour, and Mercy, justice with these twain,  
Approve her absolute heroic Queen:  
No former worthy, more divine hath been.  
Nor won more honour, never touch of stain.   

But how could Pius Pope excuse his spite,  
In seeking true Eliza's life by sword?  
How could he void just sentence of his pride,  
Her to depose, by his ambitious word?  
How could he clear himself of subtlety,  
Pretending to dispense with fealty?  
Spite, pride, and fraud, a trine aspect of hell,  
Presaging ill event out of that cell.  
From whence proceeds nought but impiety.   

This impius Bull of Pius baited thus,  
Came led to London in false felton's hand,  
He tied the beast, and left it furious;  
At th' Bishop's palace in a leaden band  
The Bulheard left the game for others play,  
His service done, despair egged him away:  
The Bull grew meeker, was with ease untied.  
The gamester gone, the game was not revide,  
But left unplayed until another day.   

Francke gamester Felton lay aloof awhile,  
To hear and note, success of this fierce beast,  
At last found out, and brought from dark exile,  
And saw the game all done, become a jest:  
Himself came forth to play his part on stage  
In public view (Pope Pius trusty Page.)  
He acted all, as traitors use to do,  
That after doom to execution go.  
Mean while the Bull was kerbed of his rage.   

The powers divine, that ever shelter make  
To shield Eliza from foul envies hand,  
Stood up and stopped the currant of this lake,  
That threatened danger to herself and land:  
And leaves her not deprived of reveal  
Of all complots, that would subvert her weal.  
He Madders and Barlowes conspiracies  
Bewrayed: ere they brought forth their villainies  
They died: justice admitted no appeal.   

My pensive soul (recomforted to see  
Eliza's freedom, and her constant love:  
How Truth and Mercy, in her linked be,  
And how her virtues her spread fame approve)  
Cannot but lift in love her worthy praise,  
And laud his name, who her for us did raise:  
And in her set Religion (aptivate)  
Free for Religious to participate  
jehovah's bounty in Eliza's days.   

jehovah's bounty and his loves defence,  
Defendeth her and us in her from foes:  
Praise him, he seeks no other recompense.  
He heaved her up, and we in her arose,  
We did arise, by tyranny cast down,  
She, she, (our Moses,) lifted to the crown,  
Saw Corah, Dathan, and Abiram rise,  
(Rebellious troops) and sink before her eyes.  
Despair them swallow at Eliza's frown.   

Confusion swallows Rebels, none can stand  
When they conspire in public, or concealed,  
For who so takes a traitors task in hand  
To work Eliza's wreck, is soon revealed.  
Their treasons seen, whence is original?  
Sot Somervile's, and that proud Parries gall,  
That swore her death with resolution,  
Covertly contrived by Rome's elusion:  
What issue came? their own infernal fall.   

And yet was Parry by the Pope assured  
His fact was worthy merit of heavens bliss:  
What hellish vipers hath these Popes procured,  
To aim at her whose glory makes them miss?  
Her glory graced with jehovahs' grace,  
Disgraceth them with her great glories face:  
What could the fourteen great heroykes do,  
Whom eke the Pope to murder her did woo?  
Did they prevail in that they had in chase?   

Were they not found by high jehovahs' eye,  
That winks not at foul Envies lifted fist?  
He sees and sways their foul malignity:  
And smites them down within self envies list.  
Yea though they do contrive their spite  
In sovereign parts, far off (they think) from sight,  
justice bewrayeth them where so they hide,  
And self conceit leaves not them undescride:  
Themselves discover in despairing night.   

Yea though they practise darkness in the dark,  
As devilish witchcraft, and the Magic arts:  
The devil deceives them, and they miss the mark,  
Yet he not his, their play is of two parts.  
They aim to hit, high Ioues anointed Queen,  
And miss, he aims at them, (his wiles unseen,)  
And hits. The Pope yet holiest of the rest,  
Chief actor, finding former shifts not blest:  
He will have execrable arts be seen.   

And for his Nigromantiall practices,  
Picks out infernal instruments for fact:  
As Prestall, Phayer, and their complices,  
hotheaded Story, master of the act,  
This work commenced, dark & deep as hell,  
Yet brought to light, and lifted from that rell.  
The devil assured them Eliza's death,  
(He loves to lie) believe not what he saith,  
Though traitors do, so did Achitophel.   

Achitophel bewitched, did bewitch  
Fair Absolom, a son unto a king:  
Moved him to mount, to hit (but did not hiche)  
His father's crown, high justice clipped his wing.  
So are the wings of these fowl traitors cut,  
That want not will, their flight in practice put:  
But fall in seas of deep despairing shame,  
And Story styled led with great Sophy's fame,  
Armed with fowl Envy, missed the aimed but.   

The white, (Eliza) dazed their devilish eyes,  
They could not see, nor make their art to prove:  
Arts master could not make that devil rise  
That was of power to hurt jehovahs' Dove.  
Yet Story striving to accomplish that  
Which in his high aspiring fancy sat,  
Was sent a present by jehovah's hand,  
From Flaunders, where he most secure did stand:  
All men well know the guerdon that he got.   

Yet Phayer and Prestall found a fairer day,  
Eliza's mercy, her revenge exceeds:  
Though mercy in this case might well say nay,  
And justice cut down these infernal weeds.  
But justice left them not excused herein,  
For Phayer fell after to high treasons sin:  
Died for the last, a guerdon for the first,  
High traitors have no doubt a dropsy thirst,  
Which seldom quencheth when it doth begin.   

What souls keep silence, but rejoice to see  
The speedy falls of all Eliza's foes?  
Whose foes, are foes to all that faithful be,  
Her faith, firm faith, their faithless works disclose,  
And none sit sad to see it, but the crew  
Of envies covert workers out of view,  
Whose hearts are hidden for a while in dark,  
They will be seen by some external mark,  
And show the poisoned fruit that therein grew.   

For none so walk, invisible in Spite,  
But word, or work, or guise, or garment will  
At last bewray them, and bring all to light,  
The fume will breathe and show what they distill:  
Throgmorton in heart's closet long conceild  
His envies fire, at last broke forth revealed,  
A flame to light the bringing in of Spain,  
To pull Eliza down, a painful strain,  
A deep fetched note, words to make Princes yield.   

Nay, weapons were prepared, the Kingdom given,  
Our lives were sold, all offices disposed,  
And in conceit, they had deposed our Queen,  
All up but one; but when it was disclosed,  
The game did turn. Throgmorton came to light,  
Then, Pope, was pensive, Spaniards in sad plight,  
Their hope a dream: when they awaked, they saw  
That shadows bring not substances in awe.  
Nor words like swords, to arm a man to fight.   

This misty morning cleared with the Sun,  
Bewrayed Throgmorton with her splendent beams:  
He leaves his closet when his dream was done,  
And finds Eliza rooted in her Realms  
Which he had sold to them that could not buy,  
He could not sell Eliza's dignity:  
Yet nought did want but sure possession,  
And that was hoped by his confession.  
Here was presumption, and credulity.   

Seller presumes to sell what was not his,  
Buyers believe, yet had not Quid pro quo:  
What man of law can rightly censure this,  
Pactum or nudum pactum, yea or no?  
The buyers sue not seller for the same,  
Nor then required, or for bargain came:  
And yet Throgmorton was attached therefore,  
And paid his head, for recompense: and More,  
And his consorts went not without their shame.   

Who sees these fruits, that grow upon that stock  
Of Rome's despite, that spread into this land,  
And loathes them not? and would not move the block  
Laid in the way to weak Eliza's hand?  
Who doth not joy to see their ill success?  
Who doth not wish in heart a sound redress?  
The banishment of all that hateful crew,  
That lurk unseen, and some in public view?  
Or wish their love, and their despites release.   

Oh how would our Eliza them embrace?  
How would she guard their lives in truths desires?  
How happy they, if they were in her grace  
Cut from that tree, of bloody Rome's aspires?  
That still aspires, and still her branches fall,  
They rot, consume, infected with her gall:  
A wonder that they will not shun the snare,  
When they their own with others lots compare:  
They see the mirror, yet not moved withal.   

What are their lives unto the Papacy?  
As are base Turks to their ground Signior  
Who ways ten thousand lives in policy,  
As flies; So Catholic Superior,  
Oh silly souls, that dream of dignity  
And high advance for hateful treachery,  
To bring their native land, to foreign spoil,  
Their friends, and kinsmen, guiltless to their foil.  
Self guerdon death, hell for their salary.   

What recompense had Rome's chief champion  
Sent to this land from that great Bishop's side?  
Their Alpha and Omega Campion  
And his consorts, concealed yet espied,  
They came in colour to win souls to bliss,  
Of all the Locusts sent, the gloss is this:  
When to draw subject, duties, and their love,  
From true Eliza, and high treasons move.  
Against their Queen, their true pretending is.   

For can a subject stand, liege to his Lord,  
And yet give sentence with his mortal foe?  
Or can a man serve two with good accord,  
When in desire they wish each others woe?  
It's hard to wade in mean, between two friends,  
In equal service jealousy depends.  
Therefore who works to win a subjects love  
From her that hath it warranted above,  
T'anothers' love, all know what he pretends.   

They may pretend, and be igniferent,  
Zealous in show, to win a man from sin,  
When all they work, is to make malcontent,  
And draw the doubtful to dive deeper in.  
For if their works were of right wisdoms skill,  
They would in public, practise to instill  
Their right advise, that all might be advised,  
As Paul did preach in public, not disguished:  
Who fear the light (no doubt) their deeds are ill.   

Did Campion that famous Doctor show  
In public school, or in the open view?  
Or did he preach? or his high gifts bestow  
On all? as well he might, if they were true.  
Nay, came he not in covert, fearing light,  
And kept in dark, and sallied in the night?  
As one that would surprise the silly sheep,  
Fled from the fold, and from their shepherds keep.  
And do not all the Locusts thus by flight?   

Have they the habit coresponding gift?  
As they pretend their gift is to forgive?  
If that their gift, and colour not a drift,  
To lay their poison in Religious hive.  
Then let them come, but not in ruffians weed,  
That come to kill, when they pretend to feed:  
Some come like Ruffians, some like men of war,  
The blind, the lame, they know not what they are,  
How can they ask them then the things they need?   

They fear the sword (they say) therefore they lie  
As Leopards; white, and black, and green, & grey,  
Attired thus to act divinity:  
Beseems it them? It fits a stage array:  
But if these colours be to cloak their guile,  
As they assume unto themselves exile,  
Then sure they fear the light, and walk in dark,  
Pretending one, and aim another mark:  
Denominate by one, and have another style.   

What need they fear the Magistrate, or sword?  
If they do well, no peril can befall,  
No peril falls on them of true accord,  
That do accord with Truth, not gorgd with gall,  
They gorgd, ungorge, and with the fume infect  
Eliza's liege-men: who again reflect  
The same on those that truly loyal be,  
And wrest the wills, of many by degree,  
To cover Treason, which they should detect.   

Who then believes, these monsters come to save?  
Or can forgive? If they seduce from love,  
Though they have titles as the Angels have,  
And be in show as is the Turtle Dove:  
They are but spies, or Spiders to compact  
The web of mischief, which some else must act:  
In eighty eight, the year of greatest hope  
Of England's overthrow, advance of Pope,  
The Spaniard hoped to be English backed.   

But was kept back, jehovah curbed his rage,  
Reverts his matter to another end,  
He by his power, his fury did assuage,  
And his Armado, did both break and bend:  
It broke by force, it bended with desire,  
To turn again, they saw it best retire,  
Some did retire; Against their wills, some saw  
And felt Elizae forces and Ioues Law:  
Who still inhabits wronger's to aspire.   

Yet sure Rome's Locusts had envenomed  
Some giddy heads, hot, weary of their weal,  
And won them to consent (but blindly led)  
To their enchants, and gave their vows for seal,  
To join their forces to Eliza's foes,  
Yet would they have Eliza to suppose  
These Romish witches to be tolerable.  
In her Kingdoms indeed most execrable,  
Covertly contriving Eliza's woes.   

Eliza's woes, woe worth their treacheries,  
Oh high jehovah blind their hateful eyes,  
Confound their wits, drive them to extacies,  
Daunt their desires, draw them to obliquys,  
And leave them not, till thou have thrown them down  
That aim at thee, and at Eliza's crown,  
At thee jehovah, to put out thy light:  
At her, Truths prop, the foe to dismal night  
Wherein they walk, as deadly Wolves unknown.   

Unknown to her, her innocency bears,  
No dread of ill; they yet creep covertly  
Into men's hearts, with counterfeited tears,  
Persuade, dissuade, conjure, and hold it piety  
To wrest poor souls from true obedience,  
Unto Eliza under false pretence,  
Of liberty and true religion,  
When all their wiles tend to confusion,  
Of Queen, and Realm, this, Rome's beneficence.   

Woe worth these Wolves, that dally with the sheep,  
As Cat with Mouse, till they work herdsman gone.  
Eliza gone, these Wolves will have the keep  
Of all the flock in false suggestion:  
Oh live Eliza, great jove let her live,  
And lead her swarm to thy all sacred hive,  
Where thy poor Bees, may shelter have from those,  
That suck truths honey, from their hearts with gloss,  
That thy truths, life, and light, do fanckly give,   

Where lo they give the fruit of poisoned tree,  
That eaten, please as honey doth the taste  
In first, but second and in third degree,  
Infects and kills, though't first a sweet repast,  
But when digested, and the Conscience  
Partakes at full their confluence,  
Then are the workings of this potion found,  
Deadly devouring, and all parts confound:  
These Vipers, yet pretend great recompense.   

They have their recompense, but far from bliss,  
No Traitors, or Seducers can expect  
Reward above (where sacred duty is)  
That yield no duty to high Ioues elect,  
(Anointed here). They blinded, seek to blind,  
And draw from duty: bound, do seek to bind  
The silly souls that sue and seek for light,  
Their Duties love, they bind by their despite,  
And yet pretend they have a sacred mind.   

A sacrilegious mind; for lo they steal  
men's hearts, and rob them of obedience:  
They breed sedition in the public weal,  
And work the weak to stand on Conscience,  
Conscience must not perunt the silly flies,  
Fallen in their web, to seek the means to rise,  
To open their eyes, to move their foot or hand,  
To shun their snares, to hear or understand.  
They must not doubt or reason of their lies.   

Oh silly souls bewitched with this crew,  
Why will you follow their enchanted ways?  
Wail, and unwrap you of this deadly clew,  
Wherein these Spiders do entrap their prays:  
Hear and believe, truth will this snare untie,  
And set your Consciences at liberty:  
And free you from these miscrean Canaanites,  
Infernal dogs, that vomit out despites  
Against Messiahs truth and sanctity,   

Come out from them ye captived souls, and fly  
Their deadly charms, and let Eliza's grace  
Prevail with you, and do no longer lie  
In that dark den, whence issues all that race.  
That range the mountains of traditions,  
Full they pretend of true devotions.  
Believe them not, truth is not in their ken:  
A misty cloud hangs on them witched men,  
Deprived of grace, guides to seditions.   

Ye see the fruits of all the Locusts, sent  
From that proud beast, that fits a God in show:  
Have they not drawn you to be discontent  
With your sweet liberty, and love you owe?  
Have they not wrought you to be obstinate,  
To kick against Eliza and her state?  
Have they not wood you to betray the land  
Wherein you live, wherein your comforts stand?  
Do you not see their loves pretence is hate?   

Hate them that hale you to that dismal way,  
Love her that lends you true protection:  
Yourselves detect, these covert wolves bewray,  
And bring to light, these Locusts of infection,  
That lurk with you, and leave their sting in you,  
Come you to light, learn truth, and live anew.  
Live as good subjects, love as Christians,  
Embrace the faithful, leave these Miscreans,  
And you shall see great blessings will ensue.    

A Pensuive souls delight  
Here is set forth Eliza's lenity,  
And Locust-Catholiques superbity.  

THe world throughou admires Eliza's love,  
Her mercy, patience, and great lenity:  
Her Princely virtues do at full approve,  
Her sacred, loving, free from tyranny,  
Her hearts affections spring of clemency.  
Disperse the Rivers of her flowing grace,  
Throughout the valleys of true Duties soil,  
Her subjects dutiful she doth embrace,  
Her foes she favours, whom her laws might spoil.   

Her sacred heart possessed with desire  
That all might live, and living, love express:  
Doth show her mercy, yet restrains her Ire,  
In hope her love might win her foes redress:  
And spares their blood, deserving nothing less:  
When justice wills, and Policy finds fit,  
The quick dispatch and cutting off of those  
That aim her ruin, though they never hit,  
Her laws severe, are not severe to foes.   

Her Princely heart still bend to Amity,  
Aims all her acts, to qualify the rage  
Of undeserved foes by lenity:  
She doth forbear them, hoping to assuage  
Their heart's despite, and to pull down the stage  
Whereon they act their envies stratagems:  
And that the prompter of their practices  
Might see the firmness of her diadems:  
Not moved by weapons or by policies.   

Yet he that steres the helm of Enmity  
And would address his bark unto her strand,  
Linnes not to send his Pilots to espy  
What way he might securely make the land:  
They sound men's hearts, and heave their envies hand  
To hit the best, but high jehovah sways  
Their hateful powers, and withers their desires:  
Eliza's watchmen, wink not at their ways,  
But lets them run on, breathless in aspires.   

But in midway when they are near the mark  
Whereat they aim, unseen they do surmise:  
(For all their soundings and devices are in the dark)  
The powers divine do open Eliza's eyes,  
And she their soundings and devices spies:  
And well considers that her lenity  
Works not effects of reformation  
Of their attempts, but their superbity  
Increasing still their cursed faction.   

They have forgotten laws inflictions  
Formerly imposed; the rod now laid aside,  
(They think) and fear not interdictions,  
Laws letter cannot countercheck their pride.  
The sword put up, it must be erst redide.  
The weather calm, they think no storm can rise  
To beat them back in their strong impudence  
Ambitious thoughts, bemysteth so their eyes  
To see Eliza's grace, they have no sense.   

They have no sense, or make no use of eyes,  
They may of both, by both they wrong the state:  
By plots and complots of conspiracies:  
Perverting subjects, stirring them to hate  
Their own sweet peace. And then to perpetrate  
High treasons, ugly spite, and deadly Ire,  
Against Eliza, for a recompense  
Of her loves favours: where indeed, their hire  
By law is death, grace works no penitence.   

Penitence? nay pride, props up their hope,  
And hope to have the glory of a day:  
Past fear, they flourish in pretence of scope  
Freely to work, they dream of no say nay,  
Their hearts of gall, they deem can have no stay  
Till Peace consume in their infernal flame,  
And Truth devoured in that combustion:  
Till they confound their native country's name,  
Fair England's glory by sedition.   

But lo, while my sad Muse recounts the things  
I did bewail, (the dangers imminent)  
A happy herald, constituted brings,  
And doth proclaim, a sweet infraunchesment  
Of doubtful thoughts, the Locusts banishment.  
My pensive thoughts revived yieldeth praise  
For our Eliza, whose divine respects,  
And whose true watch, their envies fruits bewrays,  
Yield her regards (great jove) their true affects.   

And drive their Drones and Spiders from her hive,  
That suck the honey, and do feed with gall  
Her subjects hearts, and loyal love deprive:  
High jove deprive their power and sting withal,  
Cut down the tree, let all the branches fall,  
That spread their venom to her prejudice,  
Prolong her days, and maltiply her joys,  
In earth with peace, and sacred benedice,  
Be her pavilion, shield her from annoys.   
FINIS.