A DIALOGUE BETWIXT LEWIS and the DEVIL In the Last Year of His PUISSANCE: WITH HIS Last Will and Testament.  LEWIS. 
WHat shrill and echoed Groans possess my Soul?  
And what cursed Fiends my Spirits thus control?  
Sure the Dog Cerberus begins to howl.  DEVIL. 
Make haste away, I have prepared room  
●● burning Flames, for Thee to have thy doom;  
never trifle, for thy fatal Hour is come.  LEWIS. 
Am I not Lewis, King of great Renown,  
Who all cursed Heretics did trample down?  
Who dare withstand my Diadem and Crown?  DEVIL. 
Thou must submit, both Soul and Body too,  
And leave behind thee all thy Popish Crew:  
Thy Pomp must drop into the Shades below,  
●nd thy cursed Pride must have an Overthrow:  
Thou strait along to Hell must with me flee,  
There end thy Days in endless misery.  LEWIS. 
Didst thou not promise to prolong my Years,  
●nd keep me free from Jealousies, and Fears?  
My bloody Hands thou givest power to spill  
The Blood of Heretics, even at my Will.  
●hall not thy dearest Friend escape thy Rage?  
Will nothing but my Blood thy Wrath assuage?  
● took thee as a Friend, therefore forbear  
To hinder me in my Enjoyments here.  DEVIL. 
Didst thou expect that I should take the pains  
To help thee in thy Plots, and have no gains?  LEWIS. 
My Diadem and Crown I'll freely give  
For to escape Eternity, and live.  DEVIL. 
How canst thou live on Earth, and never die?  
Canst thou escape a vast Eternity?  
No sure! therefore make haste, and come away,  
Thy Soul and Body shall my Ransom pay;  
In Hell's consuming Fire there shalt thou be  
Tormented still with Viper's cruelty.  LEWIS. 
Since I no longer with thee can prevail;  
Since all my worldly Power begins to fail:  
Since I have left no time for to repent  
My Sins; here's my last Will and Testament.  

The WILL.  

Unto my Heir I Crown and Sceptre leave,  
And my Tyrannic Actions do bequeath  
To him, that he may ne'er delight in Peace,  
But daily Wars and Rumours may increase;  
That he his Subjects may oppress with Fear,  
And all the Heretics in pieces tear:  
And when has laid his Kingdom all in gore,  
Be hurried hence unto the Stygian shore,  
And there enjoy me, who am gone before.   

To Jemmy I bequeath a Prince of Wales;  
And would another, but my Vigour fails:  
But hope my Son and Heir so kindly prove,  
To dandle Molly in the Charms of Love.   

My Subject's Curses to the Pope I leave;  
And thus my Worldly Goods I do bequeath.  
My stinking Tomb an Epitaph needs none,  
Since Soul and Body to the Devil's gone.    
FINIS.   

LONDON: Printed by John Wallis, near the Green Dragon Tavern in Fleetstreet.