Father Peters' Farewell-Sermon.  
Published by the POPE's Special Command.  
First Epistle of the POPE to the JESVITS, Chap. 84. Ver. 88 Sweet Meat must have sour Sauce.  
MY Text is short, but it is very agreeable to my time; and I could easily dispense with the shortness of it, if the former Sweetness of our days were somewhat longer.  
The Times I see vary, as the Planets do in their ordinary Motions; and there is a time for all things, a time to Win, and a time to Lose; a time to Speak, and a time to be Silent; a time to contrive and act Mischief, and a time to be called to an Account for those Transactions; and lastly, a time of Sweetness, and a time of Sowrness, which brings me to the Words of my Text,  Sweet Meat must have sour Sauce. 
My Text is Compounded of two Ingrediences, Sweetness and Sourness; and therefore I shall divide it into Two Parts. In my First Part, which I shall insist upon, is Sweet Meat; and in my Second Part, the Sour Sauce.  
SWeetness indeed is a great Cordial for dejected Spirits, but Superfluity of it many times proves Nauseous; I can speak by Experience, and I hope none that hears me can plead Ignorance, but that we have all freely Enjoyed that Sweetness in a great measure, which I may modestly say we have no ways deserved; we have been too fiery and overzealous in many Points, and have turned that into a Corrosive, which should have been an healing Medicine.  
Ben Johnson, that Famous Poet of his time, has in his Play of Cataline's Conspiracy, Act the First, Scene the Second, this Speech, which he order Catiline to break forth in:  
It is decreed, nor shall thy Fate O Rome resist my Vow; though Hills were set on Hills, and Seas met Seas to guard thee, I would through. I plough up Rocks steep, as the Alps in dust, and lave the Tythene Waters into Clouds, but I would reach thy Head, thy Head, proud Cay. The Ills that I have done cannot be safe, but by attempting greater; and I feel a spirit within me that chides my sluggish hands, and says they have been innocent too long, etc.  
Now I have striven as much as in me lay, to be as Inveterate against the Church of England, as ever he and his Faction was against Rome, and have some of my own proud thoughts by me in Manuscript, amongst my lose Papers, which I did design, had the Times been Sweeter, to have had my old Friend H H. (if he had not boiled the Pease he wore in his Shoes) to have printed them: I shall only give you a little Relish of them.  
It is decreed, nor shall thy Fate, O England 's Church, resist my Vow: Though Churches numerous are, and Parishes increase with Heretics, my Malice shall not cease. I'll plough with Mischief's Heifer, and will contrive to force the Test and Penal Laws way, that I may reach thy Head, thy Head, Stiff Church. Then entering into a damnable Contemplation with myself, I proceeded.  
The horrid Act I have committed cannot be safe, but by attempting greater; the Seven great Pillars of the Church must down, and near unto the Lion's Den they must be hurried: For I feel a devilish Spirit within me that chides my sluggish hards, and says, they have been innocent too long, etc.  
But now I find my dear Auditors, I went not a little, like the Cobbler, beyond my Last, but a great deal though the Stratagem was like the Devil's bait, sweet at the Beginning, yet it proved crabbed and knotty in the End; but, howsoever, many times the proof of the Pudding is in the Eating, which brings me now to the words of my Text, Sweet Meat must have sour Sauce; and so I shall conclude my First Part.  
Now for the Second Part of my Discourse, and the latter part of my Text, which is, namely, Sour Sauce.  
Sour indeed are the Times, and like, for aught I see, to be sourer, especially for those of our Superstitious Church, as the ungodly Heretics of the Church of England nominates us. Black Clouds are gathered together, and our Sun is set here on this side the Water. Sharp is the Wind and cold is the Air on this side Purgatory: But this is our comfort still, that the Regions are warm of; our Father Lucifer, where I make no question but some of us that have merited may descend, after we have undergone the Persecution of hanging Geometrically in a Perpendicular Line, by ascending the Ladder Passant, the better to come at the Rope Pendant: For Sweet Meat must have sour Sauce.  
Sour and Sharp things many times are very necessary in several Diseases, and several Causes, and are used as proper Remedies, as for example, Vinegar will staunch Bleeding, Salt and Soap takes away a Burning or Scald, lemond's fetches spots of Ink out of Linen, and Oranges Physicians do prescribe is extraordinary good for the Scurvy; and Hang a Dog upon a Crabtree and he will never love Verjuice afterwards; So that we may plainly see by Demonstration, that Sharp and Sour things are very good remedies, if properly applied.  
Now Oranges indeed is as proper a Sauce as we can have to our sweet Meat, for indeed, if I mistake not I think I am myself of an Essex Breed, which is a very plentiful Country for Calves, and we all know, that the properest Sauce for Veal is Oranges; but they are not at all agreeable to our Palates, especially your Bermudas Oranges, for they are very large, and have a Sound too much of the Belgic Lion in them. And now the Belgic Lion gins to Roar, which is a very great Prognostication of foul weather, and the Roman Eagle lets fall her Wings, now she is hindered of her Prey, therefore let us betake ourselves to our heels, and add wings to our Spirits, that we may be ready to fly away from this Heretical crew of sour Obstacles. He that will deceive a Fox must rise betimes, and Foxes when they are a sleep have nothing fall into their mouths; but let us make the best use of those sour times as we can, and all patiently content ourselves with that wholesome saying of the Fox, When we cannot reach the Grapes, we must say they are not ripe.  
And now, for a Word or two of Application; Let us be sweet outwardly, but sour inwardly: Let the old Leven of Malice still and for ever remain in us, that at last we may bring it forth in the whole Lump: Let us despise their Heretical Persecutions, and if we are once catched, die as innocently as our Predecessors have seemingly done before us, without knowing any thing at all of the matter of which we are accused; but denying all things, for the great meritorious Works sake: But lastly, let us all desire, since Oranges are the properest Sauce for our scurvy Distemper, that we may expire our last Breath upon that Tree on which they grow, and not on that old Paddington Tree at Hyde-park Corner.  
FINIS.