NEWS Newly Discovered, In a pleasant Dialogue betwixt Papa the false Pope, and Benedict an honest Friar, showing the merry conceits which the Friars h●ve in their Cloisters amongst handsome Nuns, and how the Pop● complains for want of that pastime, wi●h the many shifts of his friends in England.  
By Thomas Herbert.   depiction of two men engaged in conversation 
Printed for J. Wright. 1641.   

A DIALOGUE Betwixt the false POPE and the honest FRIAR.  
OR, Papa and Benedict.  Papa. 
HOw farest thou Benedict?  Fri, 
Father Pope, how can I do otherwise then well, having so many handsome, curious complete and beautiful Nuns in my Cloister?  Pap. 
Why, hast thou so good employment there?  Fri. 
I have the rarest, neatest and compleatest shriving, that since Saint Dunstan's time there hath not been better.  Pap. 
Do they confess well?  Fry, 
Confess well! I and hang well, I mean their Beads about their necks: Oh, were you but in my place, you would exchange three Crowns for a Fryership.  Pap. 
I was a Friar one time, and then I had such employment, which to think of almost makes me out of my wits.  Fry. 
I hope not so.  Pap. 
Yes, that I am.  Fry. 
Your reason for't?  Pap. 
O my brave Friar, because I have no such employment now.  Fry. 
Faith Sir, I think that your Sister Pope joane had so much, that never a Pope since could get any.  Pap. 
No! by Saint Peter's Chair you have the only time of it now.  Fry. 
We Friars and Jesuits are bound to thank your Holinesses Pardons for't.  Pap. 
But (I hope) you will let me part stake with you sometimes.  Fri. 
As for my part, you never found, me backward.  Pap. 
I must confess I have not▪ but faith tell me Benedict, how many Pardons hast thou bought of me this year;  Friar. 
Truly, I must confess I have bought but few, but you have given me many; I would two or three of my friends in England had had some of them.  Pap. 
Why be there any there which stand in need of them?  Fri. 
There was a good man as I heard lately was like to take accquaintance with a thing called Tyburn without one.  Pap. 
They would not dare to do it sure.  Fri 
What is that they dare not to do? Faith, in a small time you are like to have very few friends there.  Pap. 
Why, what's the reason?  Fry. 
Because they are like to return all home unto Rome again.  Pap. 
What! before they have done any good there?  Fry. 
They were in very fair way once; but now the times are altered, Fiddlers go a begging.  Pap. 
Those which were the cause of it, I thus curse them with Bell, Book, and Candle, Candle, Book, and Bell, backwardly and forward unto Hell.  Fry. 
But they are so much blest in a Parliament, that I doubt me your curses will do them very little harm.  Pap. 
No! for that word saucy Friar I curse thee: had I my will in England, I would make the proudest of them all stand in fear of my curse.  Fry. 
As for your cursing me I care not; but as for getting any will there, you are like to come far short.  Pap. 
Base Varlet; what! turned Heretic?  Fry. 
Whether I am turned Heretic I cannot tell; but that of late I am turned Christian I can assure you.  Pap. 
O that I had a Cross, or some Holy-water to defend me from thee.  Fry. 
O that thy Crosses with a rope were hung about thy neck, to defend all the world from thee, who by thy base inventions hast hitherto cheated the whole earth.  Pap. 
O intolerable audacity! I am not able to forbear.  Fry. 
You mean the whole World, through your vain and deceitful fictions.  Pap. 
I am mad.  Fry. 
You may very well be so, for Pardons are like to be sold at a very low market now; because no body will buy them; men have learned wit to love money more than the Pope, in time I believe you will play a part of the broken Citizen, and so shut up shop.  Pap. 
O intolerable! thus to be derided by one of my own Livery!  Fry. 
You are much deceived Sir, time was wherein I did wear it; but since I have found so much knavery to lie hid in your Popeships bosom, I shaken it off.  Pap. 
And have you forgot your honest shrieving of Nuns?  Fry. 
You are mistaken in me, you think me to be one of Pope Ioan's order, which is a vice too many of you Popes and Cardinals have been given to, I will not excuse the neat Cardinal in France from it.  Pap. 
Villain, what didst thou ever see by me or any of mine?  Fry. 
I'll tell you in plain terms Mr. Vicar Devil, reverend Pope (I would have said) you are Governor of a hell of mischief; you have made Rome, which once was a place of great renown, row nought but a sink of wickedness; instead of Piety and good Religion, you plant errors and schism through the whole World, you cousin Souls of Heaven, by blinding them with your Crosses upon earth? what is it which makes so many halt betwixt two opinions, but your Popish damnable plots?  Pap. 
Go on I pray, I do intent to hear thee patiently, and answer thee with verity.  Fry. 
How can the Prince of lies speak truth.  Pap. 
Why, dost thou take me to be the Prince of lies?  Fry. 
If I should say I did not, I should prove myself to be a dissembler like thyself.  Pap. 
Then you hold me to be adissembler.  Fry. 
More, I'll swear thee to be one: how oft hast thou been guilty of men's blood? how many Christians by thee have been tortured? whom before their torments thou hast smiled and laughed on? How many cups of venomous poison hast thou presented unto Kings for morning's draughts? whom not long before thou hast proclaimed to be thy friends: but this you will say is no dissembling, this you do only in love, because they should not endure any more miseries of this World: indeed, this is true Popish Piety.  Pap. 
Good Ben, say no more, and as for what thou hast said I freely pardon.  Fry. 
This is another Pope's trick; what he cannot by threatening, he endeavours through cogging to obtain. I am resolved Mr. Pope to leave you, and your superstitious crew to your great Grandfather Pluto, to whom I know you shall in time be made very welcome: your seven horned Beast will wait upon you when you please, and will carry you with a great celerity.  Pap. 
You intent to leave me then and be gone?  Fry. 
Yes faith, I am now quite weary of wearing Romish shackles or Crosses, which you please.  Pap. 
And whither I pray do you intent to take your journey?  Fry. 
Where I am sure you dare not follow me, it is to England.  Pap. 
Time hath been Sirrah, that I have had power enough thereto scourge the proudest Heretic in the World, and may in time again do the like.  Fry. 
That time will be (I believe) when the Devil and you are both honest together; and that I think will scarce be in haste.  Pap. 
I had hopes enough lately of it.  ●ry. 
Not of being honest I believe.  Pap. 
I say that I had hope lately to get dominion in England.  Fry. 
Indeed I did understand by some of your friends, that through Jesuitical Plots, and Projectors knavery for a time you have got a finger there: but now as I hear, that finger is like to be cut off, not without some heads.  Pap. 
They dare not do it.  Fry. 
Yes, and yours too, were it there; which I dare be bold you will not go venture for the gaining of another Saint Peter's Chair, Keys and all.  Pap. 
Thou talk'st like one of a shallow brain; it is an impossible thing but that I should have a friend in England, although perhaps they dare not openly confess themselves so to be; yet so long as England stands they will (like to the Precisians) be read in a small Geneva Print.  Fry. 
What you mean by Geneva Print I cannot tell; but their last impression I believe will be called in at Tyburn.  Pap. 
Tyburn! what's that?  Fry. 
A place where many of your former friends (the cart being ready to drive away) cried a pox take the Pope for bringing them thither.  Pap. 
What, and have had our Pardon?  Fry. 
Faith your Pardons there are not worth the third part of a Peters-penny: witness your Gunpowder Merchants which cut capers nine foot high, and never came down again till they were cut down: if their heads could have got to Rome, they would have told you as much; your high devilish Court of Cardinals could not keep them from it.  Pap. 
They were happy in their deaths, because they died true Martyrs.  Fry. 
For my part, I desire no such Martyrdom: if hanging for high treason be counted Martyrdom; I believe before twenty years be expired, there will be Martyrs enough in England.  Pap. 
Push, I have a bird or two there which will prevent such matters.  Fry. 
As for one of your Birds, I hear he is flown, and so escaped a Cage, and the other would be gone, if that its wings were not cut.  Pap. 
Better fly then die, insomuch as in a time of need, one pair of legs are worth two pair of hands.  Fry. 
But I had almost forgot to tell you one thing.  Pap. 
What's that?  Fri. 
'tis thus, you must very speedily either send very loving Letters or very well twisted ropes into England.  Pap. 
To whom there?  Fri. 
To your jesuitical Friends to desire them with all their copartners to return speedily to Rome.  Pap. 
But why should I send ropes?  Fri. 
To save England the charges of buying ropes to hang them which tarry behind, and you would do very well to invite some English Projectors over to you, they can get you more by Tobacco, Soap and Wines, than the best Jesuit in Rome by Holy-waters, Peter-pences or Crosses: but you must send quickly, lest Shrove-Tuesday prevent you.  Pap. 
I wish them no worse harm then to be with me.  Fri. 
Faith, nor I neither, for I think that would be harm enough in conscience, they would miss Silla to fall into Charybdis: for I hold it better to be hanged in England, then to live in Rome, for Tyburn oft converts souls, but Rome constantly makes them worse and worse.  Pap. 
For this blasphemous saying (base Varlet) thy Soul shall never come out of Purgatory, but always remain there,  
The Friar sings. 
Good Pope forbear your vain Purgatory,  
for I trow never to fear:  
There is no such place in Sacred Story;  
wherefore for it I will not care:  
Heaven and Hell  
They're known well,  
But Limbo Patrum, or Purgatory  
Never will bring any soul to glory.   Fri. 
How like you this Father Pope; you see I care little, for your vain fictious place of Purgatory.  Pap. 
The time will come (sirrah) you shall care for it, when as you are barred from S. Peter's Key.  Fr. 
Truly Sir. I believe it is so long since you opened Heaven gate, that I believe your Key is grown rusty,  Pap. 
I'll s●●nd my breath on thee no longer, except it be openly to curse thee; wherefore far thee well in the Devil's name.  FRIAR. 
Farewell thou sink of wickedness and sin,  
When thou art good, then surely will begin  
The whole world for to mend, for which I'll pray,  
That it may be this year, this month, this day.   
FINIS.