A satire. THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST. By a scholar in Oxford. Printed in the year M.DC.XLIII. A satire. THE Puritan AND THE PAPIST. SO two rude waves, by storms together thrown, Roar at each other, fight, and then grow one. Religion is a Circle; men contend, And run the round in dispute without end. Now in a Circle who go contrary, Must at the last meet of necessity. The Roman to advance the Catholic cause Allows a Lie, and calls it Pia Fraus. The Puritan approves and does the same, Dislikes nought in it but the Latin name. He flows with these devices, and dares lie In very deed, in truth, and verity. He whines, and sighs out Lies, with so much ruth, As if he grieved, 'cause he could ne'er speak truth. Lies have possessed the press so, as their due, 'Twill scarcely,' I fear, henceforth print Bibles true. Lies for their next strong Fort ha' th' Pulpit chose, There throng out at the Preachers mouth, and nose. And how e'er gross, are certain to beguile The poor Booke-turners of the middle Isle. Nay to th' Almighty's self they have been bold To lie, and their blasphemous Minister told They might say false to God, for if they were Beaten, he knew't not, for he was not there. But God, who their great thankfulness did see, Rewards them straight with another victory, Just such another at Brainceford; and san's doubt. Will weary ere't be long their gratitude out. Not all the Legends of the Saints of old, Not vast Baronius, nor sly Surius hold Such plenty of apparent Lies, as are In your one Author, Io. Browne Cleric. Par. Besides what your small Poets have said, or writ. brooks, Strode, and the Baron of the Saw-pit: With many a mental Reservation, You'll maintain Liberty, reserved [your own.] For th' public good the sums raised you'll disburse; reserved, [The greater part for your own purse.] You'll root the Cavaliers out, every man; Faith, let it be reserved here; [If ye can.] You'll make our gracious CHARLES, a glorious King; reserved [in Heaven,] for thither ye would bring His royal Head; the only secure room For glorious Kings, whither you'll never come. To keep the estates o'th' Subjects you pretend; reserved [in your own trunks;] you will defend The Church of England, 'tis your Protestation; But that's New-England, by'a small Reservation. Power of dispensing Oaths the Papists claim; Case hath got leave o' God, to do the same. For you do hate all swearing so, that when You have sworn an Oath, ye break it straight again. A Curse upon you! which hurts most these Nations, Cavaliers swearing, or your Protestations? Nay, though Oaths by you be so much abhorred, Ye allow God damn me in the Puritan Lord. They keep the Bible from laymen, but ye▪ Avoid this, for ye have no laity▪ They in a foreign, and unknown tongue pray. You in an unknown sense your prayers say: So that this difference twixt ye does ensue, fools understand not them, nor Wise men you. They an unprofitable zeal have got, Of invocating Saints that hear them not. 'Twere well you did so; nought may more be feared In your fond prayers, then that they should be heard. To them your nonsense well enough might pass, They'd ne'er see that i'th' Divine looking-glass: Nay, whether you'd worship Saints is not yet known, For yohave as yet of your Religion none. They by good-works think to be justified, You into the same error deeper slide; You think by works too justified to be, And those ill works, Lies, Treason, perjury. But oh your faith is mighty, that hath been, As true faith ought to be, of things unseen. At Worcester, Brainceford, and Edge hill, we see, Only by faith yohave gotten victory. Such is your faith, and some such unseen way The public faith at last your debts will pay. They hold freewill (that nought their souls may bind) As the great privilege of all mankind. You're here more moderate, for 'tis your intent, To make't a privilege but of Parliament. They forbid Priests to marry; you worse do, Their Marriage you allow, yet punish too: For you'd make Priests so poor, that upon all Who marry, scorn and beggary must fall. They a bold power o'er sacred Scriptures take, Blot out some Clauses, and some new ones make. Your great Lord Jesuite brooks publicly said, (brooks whom too little learning hath made mad) That to correct the Creed ye should do well, And blot out Christ's descending into Hell. Repent wild man, or you'll ne'er change, I fear, The sentence of your own descending there. Yet modestly they use the Creed, for they Would take the Lord's prayer Root and Branch away. And wisely said a Levit of our nation, The Lord's Prayer was a Popish Innovation. Take heed, you'll grant ere long it should be said, An't be but to desire your daily Bread, They keep the people ignorant, and you Keep both the People, and yourselves so too. They blind obedience and blind duty teach; You blind Rebellion and blind faction preach. Nor can I blame you much, that ye advance That which can only save ye, Ignorance; Though Heaven be praised, t'has oft been proved well Your Ignorance is not Invincible. Nay such bold lies to God himself ye vaunt, As if you'd fain keep him too ignorant. Limbus and Purgatory they believe For lesser sinners, that is, I conceive, Malignants only; you this trick does please, For the same Cause ye' have made new Limbuses, Where we may lie imprisoned long ere we A day of judgement in your Courts shall see. But Pym can like the Pope with this dispense; And for a Bribe deliver souls from thence. Their counsels claim Infallibility, Such must your Conventicle-synod be; And Teachers from all Parts of th'Earth ye call, To make't a council ecumenical. They several times appoint from meats t'abstain; You now for th'Irish wars a Fast ordain; And that that kingdom might be sure to fast Ye take a Course to starve them all at last. Nay though ye keep no Eves, Fridays, nor Lent, Not to dress meat on Sundays you're Content; Then you repeat, repeat, and pray, and pray; Your Teeth keep Sabbath, and Tongues working day. They preserve relics; you have few or none, Unless the Clout sent to John Pym be one. And Hollis's rich Widow, she who carried A relic in her womb before she married. They in succeeding Peter take a Pride; So do you; for your Master yohave denied. But chiefly Peter's privilege ye choose, At your own wills to bind and to unloose. He was a Fisherman; you may be so too, When nothing but your ships are left to you. He went to Rome, to Rome you Backward ride, (Though both your goings are by some denied.) Nor is't a Contradiction, if we say. You go to Rome the quite Contrary way; He died o'the cross; that death's unusual now; The gallows is most like't, and that's for you. They music love i'th' Church; it offends your sense, And therefore ye have sung it out from thence, Which shows, if right your mind be understood, You hate it not as music, but as Good. Your madness makes you sing, as much as they Dance, who are bit with a Tarantula. But do not to yourselves (alas) appear The most Religious Traitors that e'er were, Because your troops singing of psalms do go; there's many a traitor has Marched Holbourn so. Nor was't your wit this holy project bore; Tweed and the Tine has seen those tricks before. They of strange Miracles and wonders tell, You are yourselves a kind of Miracle; Even such a miracle as in writ divine We read o'th' devils hurrying down the Swine. They have made Images to speak, 'tis said, You a dull Image have your Speaker made; And that your bounty in offerings might abound, Y'have to that idol given six thousand pound, They drive out devils, they say; here ye begin To differ, I confess; you let them in. They maintain Transubstantiation; You by a Contrary philosopher's stone, To Transubstantiate metals, have the skill; And turn the kingdom's Gold to I'ron and steel. I'th' Sacrament ye agree not, but 'tis noted, Bread must be Flesh, Wine blood, if ere't be voted. They make the Pope their Head, you exalt for him Primate and metropolitan, Master Pym; Nay, White, who sits in the Infallible chair, And most Infallibly speaks nonsense there: Nay Cromwell, Pury, Whistler, Sir John Wray, He who does say, and say, and say, and say. Nay Lowry, who does new Church-government wish, And prophecies, like Jonas, midst the Fish. Who can such various business wisely sway, And handle Herrings, and Bishops in one day. Nay all your Preachers, Women, boys, or Men, From Master Calamy, to Mistress Ven, Are perfect Popes in their own Parish grown; For to outdo the story of Pope Jone: Your Women preach too, and are like to be The Whores of Babylon, as much as she. They depose Kings by force; by force you'd do it. But first use fair means to persuade them to it. They dare kill Kings; now twixt ye here's the strife, That you dare shoot at Kings, to save their life. And what's the difference, pray, whether he fall By the Pope's Bull or your ox general? Three kingdoms thus ye strive to make your own; And, like the Pope, usurp a Triple crown. Such is your Faith, such your Religion; Let's view your manners now, and then I ha'done. Your covetousness let gasping Ireland tell, Where first the Irish Lands, and next ye sell The English blood; and raise Rebellion here, With that which should suppress, and quench it there. What mighty sums have ye squeezed out o'th' City? Enough to make 'em poor, and something witty. Excise, loans, Contributions, poll-monies, Bribes, Plunder, and such Parliament privileges, Are words which you'll ne'er learn in holy Writ, Till the Spirit and your Synod has mended it. Where's all the Twentieth part now, which hath been Paid you by some, to forfeit the nineteen? Where's all the Goods distrained, and Plunders past? For you're grown wretched, pilfering knaves at last; Descend to brass and Pewter; till of late, Like Midas, all ye touched, must needs be Plate. By what vast hopes is your Ambition fed? 'Tis writ in blood, and may be plainly read. You must have Places, and the kingdom sway; The King must be a Ward to your Lord Say. Your innocent Speaker to the rolls must rise, Six thousand pound hath made him proud and wise. Kimbolton for his father's place doth call; Would be like him; would he were, face and all. Isaac would always be Lord Mayor, and so May always be, as much as he is now. For the Five Members, they so richly thrive, They'll but continue always Members Five. Only Pym doth his natural right enforce, By the mother's side he's Master of the Horse. Most shall have Places by these popular tricks, The rest must be content with bishoprics. For 'tis 'gainst Superstition your intent, First to root out that great Church Ornament, Money and Lands; your swords, alas, are drawn, Against the Bishop, not his Cap, or lawn. O let not such loud sacrilege begin, Tempted by Henry's rich successful sin. Henry the Monster King of all that age; Wild in his Lust, and wilder in his Rage. Expect not you his Fate, though Hotham thrives In imitating Henry's trick for Wives, Nor fewer church's hopes than Wives to see Buried, and then their Lands his own to be. Ye boundless Tyranes, how do you outvie Th' Athenian Thirty, Rome's Dec●mviri? In Rage, Injustice, Cruelty as far Above those men, as you in number are. What Mysteries of Iniquity do we see? New Prisons made to defend liberty; Where without cause, some are undone, some die, Like men bewitched, they know not how, nor why. Our Goods forced from us for Propriety's sake; And all the real nonsense which ye make. Ship-money was unjustly ta'en, ye say; Unjustlier far you take the Ships away. The High-Commission you called tyranny, Ye did; Good God what is the High-Committee? Ye said that gifts and bribes Preferments bought, By Money and blood too, they now are sought. To the Kings will the law's men strove to draw; The Subjects will is now become the Law. 'Twas feared a New Religion would begin; All new Religions now are entered in. The King Delinquents to protect did strive; What Clubs, Pikes, halberds, Lighters, saved the Five? You think the Parliament, like your State of Grace, What ever sins men do, they keep their place. Invasions than were feared against the State, And Strode swore that last year would be' Eighty-Eight. You bring in foreign aid to your designs; First those great foreign Forces of Divines, With which Ships from America were fraught; Rather may stinking Tobacco still be brought From thence, I say; next ye the Scots invite, Which ye term Brotherly Assistan●e right; For with them you intend England to share: They, who, alas, but younger Brothers are, Must have the moneys for their Portion; The Houses and the Lands will be your own. We thank ye for the wounds which we endure, Whilst scratches and slight pricks ye seek to sure. We thank ye for true real fears at last, Which free us from so many false ones past. We thank ye for the blood which fats our Coast, (That fatal debt paid to great Straffords Ghost.) We thank ye for the ills received, and all Which by your diligence in good time we shall. We thank ye, and our gratitude's as great As yours, when you thanked God for being ●eat. A. C. FINIS.