THE CHARACTER OF A JESUIT.  
HE is a Peccant Humour of the Body Politic, that disturbs the Constitution with Intestine Malignity, and after, seizeth the Head; if the dangerous Malady had not been discovered by the Diligence of some, and Information of others, its Effects had been Infallibly Pernicious and Destructive. He is the spurious Issue of the Whore of Babylon and Antichrist; he was Born in a Tempest, and brought up in a Wilderness; his Nurse was some Insatiate Bear, that mistook him for her Cubb, and afterwards licked the helpless Lump into her own Deformed Nature. He is an Injurious Wasp that always frequents the sweetest Soil; and cannot be contented with his respective Delicacies, but will Sting you, though you touch him not, and disturb your quiet with his angry Buzzing. He is an Ominous Comet, and Portends War, Pestilence, and Famine to that Courtry where he appears. He is an Ignis Fatuus that abuseth his Deluded followers with his seeming Lustre, and instead of directing them to their Journeys end, he wilders them in Ignorance, and leads them through Fenny Bogs, and Thorny Brakes, whilst the Misguided wanderers must work out their Destruction with Toil and Industry. He is a Cannibal, and accordingly Gluts himself with Protestant Flesh, whilst his Horseleech Thirst is altogether Insatiable. His Religion is like that at Amsterdam, Universal and Unconfined, though particular upon occasion. His Truth is French, and his Morals Irish: His Feet are swift to shed Blood, and his Tongue to Perjure and Profane: His Forehead is hard and lasting, but his Ears Transitory: His Eyes are unaccountable and asquint, this looketh to Rome, and that to Constantinople, but his Nose is Roman: His Head is as bare as his Fortunes, and his Ears is as large as his Conscience: His Coat is an Irish Frieze, and lined with Equivocation, made a purpose to turn inside out: His Breeches are close kneed, to preserve an Oath of Secrecy, and his Stockings are of a changeable colour, most suiting his Profession: He is Sworn to Celibacy, yet can dispense with Plurality of Women: He'll come a Pilgrimage to pay his Adoration to the Crutch of the poor lame Convert in the Gospel, and after will use it to knock out the Brains of the next Cripple: He'll Sacrifice Virginity to the rising Ghost of his own Lust, and will drown the Widow in the Tears of her Orphan: He'll Murder with Zeal and Devotion, and be Villainous with Authority and Licence; an Oath with him is no more than a Fashion, and accordingly he altars it at his pleasure. He is the repining Ghost of his Banished Religion, that obscurely stalks about, and Angrily demands satisfaction for the Injury Received, and unless he be Conjured down by a Magistrates' wand, and the circle of a Rope, with some lasting Tyburn charm, the uneasy Goblin will continually disturb the Kingdom's quiet: an Epitome of all Villains comprised into a Method, are qualifications agreeable to one of his Profession: He'll violate Chastity and Virgin Innocency upon the Altar, and will stop the Mouth of the shreiking Sufferer with his Mass-Book: He'll corrupt the thoughts of the strictest Matron, and persuade her, that the abuse of her Husband's Bed is Meritorious: He delights to welter in Blood and Butchery, and will address himself to his great Judge with one hand up to Heaven, and the other upon his Poniard: if his glutted Conscience after such a deluge in Gore, should be nice and squeemish, one Dram of Indulgence will immediately digest the Scruple, and prepare the Jaded Actor to attempt a fresh Sally. He is a pernicious Caterpillar, that cannot be content to Feast his Senses with the Luscious Sweets of the Garden, but meanly and basely, must destroy the choicest Plants: He is the Spawn of the Old Serpent, and can wind himself into any mysterious Curl or Figure, whilst under the gilded and spangled Skin, there lies a poisonous Sting: He is a Villain by Birth, and is accordingly improved by Art and Education; his Church doth warrant his Attempts, and encourage his proceedings; there is more Religion practised on Shipboard, when the Foaming Billows beat, and the busy tarpaulins are in a stickle, or amongst a company of losing Gamesters, then in one of their Cloisters. I have Read of a Jesuit, that after the Commission of such Enormities, as the most daring Sinner would almost dread to repeat, that instead of confessing his long Muster-Roll of sins to his Ghostly Father, condemned his Ignorance, and said, He Repent nothing, but that he had not been a Columbus in Sins, and discovered new Worlds of Iniquities. He is a Prodigy in Nature, and has destroyed God's Image in himself: His Principles are Devilish, and his Practices are suitable; but since he is incorrigible, we'll cease to Lash him with Satyrical Invectives, and so leave him to the Rod of Vengeance.   

LONDON, Printed for J. Newton. 1681.