NEWS FROM ROME. OR A Relation of the Pope and his Patentees Pilgrimage into Hell, with their entertainment, and the Pope's return bacl again to ROME.  
With an elegiacal Confabulation between DEATH and HONOUR.  
A Lecture which may be read to the greatest Monarch in the world.  
Estote proditoros Betray Your Country   woodcut, depicting the Pope astride a hydra 
Printed in the Year 1641.   


NEWS FROM ROME. OR A Relation of the Pope and his Patentees Pilgrimage into Hell, with their entertainment, and the Pope's return bacl again to ROME.  

THe Stygian King for honour to his Court  
Now sits in state, delighting in the sport  
His Furies make him, but they had not long  
Practised their hellish Gambols, when a throng  
Of unknown guests were seen, Pluto began frown,  
Their Leader did not veil his triple crown;  
Then with a contract brow he thus bespoke,  
Cannot our frown make this same vassal quake.  
Then fell the Pope upon his bended knee,  
And cries, how fares your gracious Majesty.  
At length looking about he doth there see,  
Stern Rhadamanthus, with the Furies three;  
Threeheaded Cerberus, than he doth spy  
Jxions' wheel, and Theseus misery.  
All standing round about him, as to hear  
Some unknown matter, his speech was stopped by fear.  
At l●st forgetting fear, he loud doth call  
Unto his God for justice, that the Hall  
Did ring with Echo, making his complaint  
Against the English, till he grew quite saint.  
At length he thus proceeded, and did say  
They scorn my servants, and me disobey.  
But some there are who to me faithful were,  
But they are gone, theyare fled I know not where.  
My Goldfinch, Windebanke, my ●uckling young,  
Who could so well pray in our Roman tongue;  
Are gone for fear of chiding, O they would  
Have elevated me, if that they could.  
My chiefest Prelate there they keep in thrall,  
Who stands in fear to smell the Judgement hall.  
My jush King is dead, he would be so,  
But O my ●●●nes do fall, even by my foe.  
Now having fi●●sh●, he aloud do●h call  
Unto his patent friends, that they should fall  
Each on his knee, presenting each his gift,  
Thinking to gain great favour was his drift.  
The first Tobacco in a pipe well stuffed  
Presents to Pluto (after i● was puffed)  
Which when the black Tartarian god did smell,  
He fretted, fumed, and said, Is not Hell  
Stored enough with base sulphurous smoke,  
But you must thus conspire me here to choke;  
Is not our person stored with fumes enough,  
That you must here present us such a snuff;  
Base Varlet, with Heathenish Indian weed,  
I present, I abhor, and for this deed,  
I do exile thee, never to come near  
Our Court again, without continual fear;  
Lordaine to that fair Elizians field,  
Nor joy nor comfort to thee ere shall yield;  
But thou with Tantalus shalt stand, and thirst,  
For thou from henceforth ever art accursed.  
Tobacco gone, no longer it must stay  
But like a chimney smoke vanish away.  
Then down falls Soap, thinking clean out to wash  
Tobacco's stain, but stern Megaeraes' lash  
Doth force him up, the Pope doth weep to see,  
Soap larders out of Plntoes company:  
Then Bacchus' friend upon his knee doth fall  
Presenting that which bitter was as Gall,  
The price of Wine I mean, but Pluto he  
Foreknowing of his plots his sign would see;  
Then of his pocket paper out he drew,  
Wherein portrayed was in lively hue  
The form of cozenage, about her standing  
Seven penny pint pots as new landing  
On English shore: In her face did he see,  
The true effigies of a Patentee:  
At length the Wine he did intend to taste,  
Which stunk of Horseflesh, than was Pluto past  
The bounds of patience, and to all did swear,  
The first Inventor on't should lose an ear.  
He was incensed so far that he did vow  
That he hereafter never would allow  
Such wicked do, he wished these knaves  
Had long ago been buried in their graves.  
If he meant Abel now I cannot tell,  
I will inquire the next Post comes from Hell;  
Yet Abel's sacrifice was first accepted  
When wicked cain's his brother's disrespected.  
Then did all other Patents kneel together,  
But chiefest notice taken was of Leather,  
Which to a Coach transformed was not shoes,  
Wherefore for him the Furies made a noose,  
And hung him out a tanning, but the Pope  
Being tormented, was quite out of hope  
In Hell to gain redress for's miseries,  
Wherefore with speed to cursed Rome he flies,  
Without his Patents, Charon would not row  
Such damned friends, to all the world a foe:  
They are in Hell, and there let them still lie,  
Who were the causers of much misery:  
Jesuits are angry because thus I writ,  
So let them be, these lines I do indite  
Only to them, and each close shaved Friar,  
Whom Hell much wants to kindle Pluto's fire:  
My Muse is weary of so black a theme,  
Wherefore she's flown unto her sister's stream,  
To cleanse herself, I me sure anon again  
She will return, then I'll write better strain.    

An elegiacal Confabulation BETWEEN DEATH and HONOUR.  
A Lecture which may be read to the greatest Monarch in the world.  H: 
WHat horrid Monster ' is't which I do see,  D: 
One that is come to make a coarse of thee?  
Nay, frown not Honour, thou must me obey;  H: 
What art thou slave, which darest to me thus say!  D: 
My name is death,  Hon: 
Death thyself enlarge,  
Tell me thy nature, office, and thy charge.  D: 
For to declare to thee such things are vain,  
I am triumphant, and demands disdain  
Of greatest Monarches, Death stands not in fear;  
Than know proud Honour, Death will never spare.  H: 
Base Fiend, what art thou which to me dost talk?  
Tell me, what art thou? or else quickly walk.  D: 
Alas poor elf, dost think to conjure Death,  
Thou canst not, therefore come yield up thy breath.  H: 
Honour yield breath, pray tell me unto whom,  D: 
To Death, therefore with speed prepare thy Tomb.  
Honour is vain, 'tis mortal, quickly gone,  
This my keen dart shall force the proudest groan.  
Then Honour shake off pride, and avoid lust,  
Highest of honours must humbled be i'th' dust.  H: 
How Honour humbled? an example show  
Then of thy power sufficient I shall know  D: 
I am content thy pleasure to fulfil,  
Example I will show, then know my skill.  
Had not Lord Wentworth honours? yes 'tis true,  
Who dare deny it, by valour he it drew,  
His wisdom unto after ages shall  
Renowned be, and live perpetual.  D: 
What is true valour,  Hon: 
to overcome i'th' field,  D: 
But Death doth force greatest Commanders yield.  H: 
Since Guns and Rapiers first invented were  
Faint-hearted mortals, of Death stood in fear.  D: 
Never before did Honour yield to me,  H: 
Never true Honour always scap't .  D: 
Honour thou list, I am sure ever yet,  
Death ruled the roast, man only turned the spit.  
But yet I'll real be, Coelick Honour  
Is fearless still, though Death display his Banner.  
But as for such it descends from above,  
In man infused it is by heavenly Jove.  
But yet they die which real Honour have,  
And yet their fame survives, they being in grave.  
Those which for terrene honours gape and call,  
By soaring high ofttimes do catch a fall.  
Now answer Honour, tell to me thy mind,  
Where like to Death another canst thou find:  
What silent Honour, darest thou not reply?  
Answer me quick, this Dart must make thee die.  
Hector that worthy Prince of famous Troy  
I overcame, and with him Priam's joy.  
These greatest honours had, they Worthies were,  
And yet to strike them did not I Death fear.  
Then say no more, that I am too too cruel,  
The Fates command that we should fight a duel.  H: 
O hold, hold Death, to thee doth Honour yield,  
Conquered I am, to thee belongs the field:  
Thus world adve, farewell ye mortals all,  
Shrubs may stand fast, when tallest Cedars fall.   
T. B.  
FINIS.