A Delicate, Dainty, Damnable DIALOGUE, Between the Devil and a Jesuit.  
By john Taylor.   depiction of the devill and a Jesuit 
LONDON, Printed for I. H. for Thomas Banks. 1642.   

A Delicate, Dainty, Damnable Dialogue, between the Devil and the Jesuit.  Devil. 
MY Dear Adopted Son, since we are met  
And in our serious consultation set,  
Let us contrive some stratagem most fit.  
Our Ancient Greatness, and deep-searching wit,  
Let's lay such plots, may make the World admire,  
And add more fuel to our endless fire.  jesus. 
An't please your Graceless Majesty to note  
That I, with all the Brethren of my Coat,  
Have been the truest Servants unto you,  
We hold it Just to give the Devil his due,  
We have from North to South, from East to West,  
Survaid the World, and we have done our best  
In every Province, Realm and Monarchy  
T'advance and raise the Papal Dignity,  
And raising That, we understand right well,  
We do enlarge your Ancient Kingdom Hell.  Devil. 
Though Truth and I did ever disagree,  
Yet truth I must say, that the jesuites be  
My dearest Servants, they have ever been  
My Actors, and my factors (souls to win)  
But now our Cunning is found out, and crossed,  
And if we look not to't, all will be lost.  jesus. 
Your Hellhood cannot tax us (Mighty Prince)  
With sleepy idleness, or negligence:  
We have adventured oft in dangers deep,  
To lull the King of Christendom asleep,  
We have made Spain for us, and Italy,  
Poland, and the greatest part of Germany,  
Hungaria, Russia, France, all Catholics,  
(Except a crew of wilful Heretics)  
Such as will not by our persuasions come,  
And be obedient to the Sea of Rome,  
The House of Austria, and great Bavarre,  
With Brabant, all our own already are,  
But Britain, Sweaden, and the warlike Dane,  
We seek their Ruin, and they work our Bane,  
There is a Parliament in England now,  
That all Rome's Rights, and Rites do disallow,  
And sure the Scots, with them so fast are Knit,  
That (to the Pope) they never will submit,  
We have done all we could, it plain appears  
To set them altogether by the ears,  
And we have used all means how to prevent  
All the proceed of the Parliament,  
We have sowed false distrusts and jealousies,  
Mad Tumults, Libels, base reports and Lies;  
And over all the Land we caused to flee  
Ten thousand Pamphlets (all as true as We.)  
And yet we all, as if our wits were Dulled,  
Are in our expectations) merely Gulled,  
For if we could that Parliament have broken,  
We had done something worthy to be spoken.  
But they are all (in Unity) so tide,  
That all our plots can never them divide,  
Which makes us now the out-cast scorn of men,  
The Common abicts of each Pasquil's Pen,  
And as our Wisdoms have been highly prized,  
We now are greatest Fools, and most despised;  
Wherefore (great Monarch of Eternal Night)  
Direct and teach us to regain our Right,  
Inspire us with thy Rate Infernal skill,  
And we obediently will do thy will.  Deu. 
I tell the Son, that since the first Creation,  
I still have wrought the Church's desolation,  
The first man made, I taught to disobey  
The firstborn, his just Brother how to slay.  
Infernally I Sodom did inspire,  
Which drew upon them Heavens consuming fire,  
To righteous Lot, I gave incestuous drink,  
Noah unseemly in his Tent did wink,  
I tempted Corah, madly to Rebel,  
And he and his were swallowed quick to Hell,  
I had a wedge on Achan to bestow,  
A Dallilah, a strong man to o'erthrow,  
In Ahabs' Reign, I had Knights of the Post,  
When Nabaoths Vineyard, and his life were lost,  
The Patriarches, and Prophets, every one,  
And my chief Enemy, Th' Almighty's Son  
I persecuted to the death, and I  
Have been the cause of all the Tyranny  
Inflicted on th' Apostles, and the Ten  
First persecuions on so many men,  
With Women, Children, as it plain appears.  
In Histories, the first three hundred years,  
I in the Marrian Time did Havoc make  
In England, Thousands were consumed at stake,  
The massacres in France, I formed, and wrought,  
And thousand Protestants to death I brought,  
Two Henries, Kings of France, both murdered,  
And William, Prince of Aurenge, pistoled dead,  
Duke D'Alva, vexed the Netherlanders too,  
And Tirannized as bad as I could do,  
The plot of eighty eight I did project,  
(A vengeance light on't, t'had but bad effect)  
And I the Powder Treason first did mint,  
Although we had but scurvy fortune in't.  
These have I done, and mischiefs millions more,  
And yet I have not empted all my store.  Ies. 
Great Emperor of Darkness, briefly then,  
Seek to confound the Scots and English men,  
They are our greatest and our hatefull'st foes,  
Of all our Enemies, none like to those.  
The Hollanders of Amsterdam, or Delfe,  
Their faith is much indifferent (like myself)  
As for Religion, so it bring in profit,  
Let it be what it will, they think not of it:  
Geneva is a little paltry Plot,  
That hath all Romish duty quite forgot;  
But Britain is the Magazine of them,  
That will tread down the Papal Diadem,  
Therefore against them all your forces call,  
For if you conquer them, you have won all.  Deu. 
My pen posts (Libels) my learned Scr. be  
I'll set a work, and I will fill with Bribes;  
The hands of justice, Gold shall clear, or blear  
His eyes, and stop her ears, she shall not hear,  
Suspicious jealousies I'll frame, and fling,  
Shall breed distaste 'twixt Subjects and the King,  
That though they all mean well, I'll make a pother,  
They scarcely shall believe, or trust each other:  
I in the Church will such division sow,  
Which shall go near the Church to overthrow:  
I'll scatter strange Hreticall opinions,  
In every corner of the Lands Dominions,  
That those that see the madness of their Brains,  
Shall think the Devil is in them, taking pains,  
Like Hidra's heads, I'll make complaints increase  
That shall disturb the King and Kingdom's peace;  
In every corner, I such strife will scatter,  
That it shall seem a Pool of troubled water,  
Besides, my Irish Sons (the great O donnel)  
With his stout Kerns, and noble stout Tirconnell:  
These with great troops of Rebels, I will rear,  
That shall disturb and work much mischief there.  
A Proverb says, He that will England win,  
He boldly first (with Ireland must begin,)  
And there already, I have so begun,  
That I doubt not our will, will there be done.  
Thus (Fencer-like) my aim and stroke is wide,  
I strike at England, quite through Ireland's side.  Ies. 
Can you make England like to Germany,  
A Field of blood, a Land of misery,  
A grizly Golgatha of Dead men's Bones,  
An Empire wasted, full of sighs and groans:  
Your plots and ours, there twenty years have lafted,  
In half that time all Britain may be wasted;  
We (of our holy Order) have instilled  
Such counsel into Caesar's ears, which filled  
His Royal heart with wrath, his mind with error,  
All Christendom with horror, grief and terror:  
Bavariaes' Duke we (as we pleased) did mould,  
We drove the Palsgrave from Bohemia's Hold,  
(For never Prince did our Enchantment hear,  
But he was strait ways ours, through love; or fear)  
We are their Confessors; we know their mind,  
And at our pleasure, can them turn and wind,  
They do confess themselves to us, and we  
Do know their secrets, and their Master be,  
Yet though (like Kings) we rule and Reign,  
The King of Britain we shall never gain,  
He terms us vassals to the Romish Whore,  
And scorns us, as his Father did before.  Deu. 
Well, since we cannot win him, this we'll do,  
we'll trouble him, and all his people too,  
And we have reason for't, for he of late,  
A match with Aurange Son did consummate,  
And his fair Daughter, sure that marriage may  
Prove cross to our proceed many a way,  
For if Nassaw had not led Belgias powers,  
The Butter Boxes, had long since been ours;  
Couldst thou have crossed that Marriage, thou hadst done  
A work most worthy to be called my son.  Ies. 
The news of it amongst us was so bad,  
At Douai, and at Antwerp all were mad,  
But could not hindered, there's a power supernal,  
That countermands our policies infernal;  
And since we cannot win what we intent,  
Let us continually our forces bend,  
That what we cannot gain with care and toil,  
We may disturb, vex, ruinated, and spoil.  Deu. 
I'll fill the Cinque Ports of the Isle of Man  
With malice and with mischief, all I can,  
I will men's fancy with such humours fit,  
They shall want time to think on grace, or wit,  
I'll kill their loves, and for it give them scorns,  
That all shall kick the man whom Fortune spurns,  
Fantastic toys within their pates shall jingle,  
And truth with falsehood they shall brew and mingle,  
I'll make the World of such an odd condition,  
I'll turn it to fool, fe●ther, or Physician,  
This can I can do, and take but little pain,  
'Tis but to do my old work o'er again,  
So farewell Son, let's once again begin  
To dee some mischief where we cannot win.  Ies. 
I have a short complaint few years agone,  
A Latin Annagram I looked upon;  
Against the Pope most knavishly 'tis writ,  
He read it, and you can interpret it.  
Supreamus Pontifex Romanus.  

ANNAGRAMMA.  
O Non Sum Supra Petram fixus.   Deu. 
This gives your Holy Father a shrewd knock,  
It says he is not fixed on a Rock:  
Let him fix where he can, let's make an end,  
As long as he'll serve me, I am his friend.   
FINIS.