The Lady PECUNIA'S Journey unto Hell, with her speech to Pluto, maintaining that she sends more souls to Hell then all his Fiends: With Pluto's answer and applause.  

I Lady Pecunia, Mistress of the Mint,  
Am riding unto hell all in a Print.  
The Fiends dance for joy Pecunia's banished.   

GReat Pluto, Prince of hell, I come to thee,  
To give account what hath been done by me:  
When all your Fiends (great Pluto) did small good  
In bringing souls to Hell, I understood,  
I sent you thousands, who my ways then trod,  
That honoured me, as I had been their God;  
Forgot their prayers, neglected their own souls,  
And all for love of me, poor simple fools!  
And many of them too (such is their case)  
They cannot rest until they see my face;  
Nay, when they are in bed, so kind they be,  
They cannot sl●ep for thinking then of me,  
The Clergy mourns, my absence oft doth grieve 'em,  
Till I come double handed to relieve 'em.  
Which of your fiends can do more feats than I?  
I can fool Conscience, make the guiltless die,  
Pull Justice from her seat, and free the guilty,  
Make the impure seem pure, though ne'er so filthy.  
The Lawyer will not plead the Subjects case,  
Without he sees Lady PECUNIA'S face:  
Such is their love to me, and such my might,  
Th●t when a cause is bad, I make it right.  
The Judge himself doth know I speak but truth;  
For I have made them Knaves, even from their youth:  
Nay, many mortals are such simple Elves,  
That for my sake they will forswear themselves,  
D●mn their own souls, and all for love of me,  
So over loving, and so kind they be,  
The great Church of S. Paul's, I'll have it down,  
Though it were once a place of great renown,  
The wood, the seed, the stones, which some count trash,  
In time may yield the commonwealth some cash:  
Kings cannot war, nor make their foes afraid,  
Nor make their swords drink blood without my aid.  
I can bewitch the Prudent, spoil Devotion,  
With promise of some wealth, and high promotion.  
I ruin Towns, and make the slave rebel,  
And after send the Rebels souls to hell.  
Some think the Poet for applause doth sing,  
When for my sake he undertakes this thing;  
A Cup of Sack doth make his spirits glad,  
But without me there's no Sack to be had:  
Of all men living he cares least for me,  
For a rich Poet who did ever see?  
My slver-hook can never bring him in,  
Though many years about it I have been:  
I have looked here about me pretty well.  
Yet I can see no Poets here in hell.  
And so great Lord I have no more to say,  
All living men but Poets me obey.   

Pluto's Answer.  
Lady▪ quoth Pluto, I do honour thee,  
For sending of so many souls to me;  
Thou shalt be called the Lady of the Earth,  
As I was Prince of th'air before thy birth:  
Though thou canst do but little good in hell,  
Send souls to me, and that shall do as well,  
With that there was a fearful noise in hell,  
The hellish fiends began for to rebel,  
'Cause Pluto took Lady PECUNIA'S part,  
His subjects from their loyalty did start,  
The hellish fiends at him exceptions took;  
Murder spoke first with fearful angry look:  
Shall I (quoth murder) slighted be, great Lord,  
Who have destroyed so many by the sword?  
How many men have I made, for your good,  
Most barbarously to shed each others' blood?  
Have I not made the brother kill the ●●other,  
The little infant murdered by the mother?  
Have I not made the man to kill the wife,  
And made the woman end the husband's life?  
What mischief have I left undone in Towns?  
With bloody hands and feet trampled on Crowns.  
Tell me what mischief I have left undone  
To advance you: and will you dote upon,  
And honour this great Lady 'bove us all,  
Who to raise you do make so many fall?  
Brother Revenge, now speak, is this not true?  
How many men have fallen by me and you?  
Then came Revenge with hands all dipped in blood,  
And said, great Prince, if it be understood,  
Murder and I have done best service now,  
To enlarge hell under command of you:  
How many duels h ve I made men fight,  
And kill each other in revenge and spite?  
How many women have I Witches made,  
And to revenge their cause lent them my aid?  
What is't but I can do? you know it well,  
I have brought thousands to the pit of hell.  
Nay then quoth Lust, I pray jet me come in,  
For I have made more men and women sin  
Then either of you both: you kill and slay;  
But I bring souls to hell an easy way:  
I tempt men from the Dunghill to the Crown,  
And bring them unto hell in beds of down;  
I jull them so asleep with pleasures rate,  
Till they're in hell they know not where they are:  
I tempt the wanton woman day by day;  
The idle man can hardly say me nay:  
I with provoking meats can please their palates,  
And strengthen nature with voluptuous salads:  
My name is Lust; 'tis I can do these things,  
And with fair Maids deceive the greatest Kings.  
You see (great Prince) by what is here expressed,  
I have done more for Hell then all the rest.  
Thou vaporing fool, quoth Pride, 'tis I must reign,  
Thou wait'st on every Pander, Whore, and quean;  
I rule in Princes Courts, 'tis I alone  
That can advance the Peasant to the throne,  
And if Ambition render him a crown,  
We find a way to pull the Peasant down:  
New fashions day by day I do invent,  
To please the humorist and male content.  
I into barber's shops do creep, and there  
Invent white powder to perfume the hair;  
And so with that, and such like simple toys,  
I make them look just like miller's boys:  
I make the Oyster woman leave her bawling,  
And wear gold lace, a thing beyond her calling.  
Not without me quoth Money, by your leave,  
For without me none can go fine and brave.  
With that the Fiends on Lady PECUNIA fell,  
And cast her in great fury out of Hell:  
And since she's come again, thus stands the case,  
She makes division still in every place.  

O love not Money then so well,  
That sends so many souls to Hell.   
HUMPHREY Crouch.    

LONDON, Printed for John Clarke, at the sign of the flower-de-luce, near the hospital Gate in Smithfield, 1654.