Babels balm: or The honey-combe of Romes religion With a neate draining and straining-out of the rammish honey thereof. Sung in tenne most elegant elegies in Latine, by that most worthy Christian satyrist, Master George Good-vvinne. And translated into tenne English satyres, by the Muses most vnworthy Eccho, Iohn Vicars.

OF THE MOST FOR∣MIDABLE AND ABOMI∣NABLE POWDER-PLOT BY PAPISTS, WITH THEIR horrible authorized libertie to perpe∣trate any Villany. (Book 9)

THE NINTH SATYRE. (Book 9)

The ARGVMENT.

At Rome, by Rapine there's a Golden-Age, By Crueltie, there's still an Iron Age.

WIth Gods Law to dispense, makes deadly wounds; Yet, Rome does This, and All things else confounds. Right, Faith, and Troth, Oathes, Promises, Vowes giuen; (These wrong'd, thou'lt say, are keyes of hel, not heauen) She wrongs, vnbinds, breaks, kicks at: thus past doubt, No Obstacle her free Decree bolts-out. Why should not she free all with others pelfe? Who, all else (soone) dispenseth, of her selfe. Popes will's a Gen'rall-Rule: dost doe his minde? None then, thee Guiltie of the Fact can finde. Any, 'gainst Any, Any thing commits, Whilst God as Priest, the godlesse as Iudge sits.

Parricides (once) against this Realme arose; And did a desp'rate damned Plot compose. A machinated Treason, strange and true: Whose like, no past, no future Times, can shew. I quake to speake, my trembling Tongue sticks-fast: My hands doe shake, my Muse is mute agast. Twelue Ring-leaders did meet, deepe Hels blacke-Band; A new strange bloudy Birth to take in hand. At Rome 'twas shap't, Romes Whore 'its Damme became: Monstrous Maegaera Midwife to the same. The King, his Queene, the Prince, Peeres, Bishops graue, Superiour and Inferiour, Nobles braue; The Scarlet Iudges and wise Iustices; The chiefest Knights and choysest Burgesses: All pious Patriots, met in Parliament, On State affaires (as custome was) All bent: All these, by those base Traitors markt to die, (Had not Heau'ns fore-sight made discouerie) Smother'd in Smoake into the Aire blowne vp, Had drunke full draughts of deaths most direfull Cup. O woefull, fearefull, Stygean damned Act: Likest it selfe, paralelld by no fact. O mischiefe, murther, massacre most strange: New Snare, base Ware, brought forth from hells Exchange Nought vnder heauen was (once) new: but our time Brought forth a new, nefarious, monstrous crime. First was a Golden-Age (as Gods deare daughter:) As the Popes Neece, a powder-Age came after. What sacred, sugred loue at Rome there dwells? This fathers loue all Fathers loue excells. For, that we might not dead to heauen goe: Aliue, by Powder, he'd vs thither blow.

"These are the Briefes of Romes Religion braue: "To make one-day all-Brittaine bring to graue. Romes Monsters mouth and throate is large and hollow: And, at one draught, can many thousands swallow. O Popish cruell crue, inhumane, quite, Monsters in Gods, Monsters in all Mens sight. As Peace perturbers, as Bloud-suckers, all, That see you, flie you, finde you, from you fall. O woefull wracke, such and so many slaine: This, worke they would; but wrought their worke in vaine, Is this life-giuing true Christianitie? Is this firme faith, pure Popish Pietie? Ill deeds to good-ends, None may enterprise: And yet may Rome doe such that Rome may rise? Had all our heads vpon one Necke (then) stood; As Nero (once) desir'd (Romes man of blood:) That Necke, with one cracke of sulphurious smoke: Had beene smit-off, had not God stayd the stroke, O wretched Worke, to which all woes are due: Great wracke, more great, than may be held for true: Who present saw All, noted, All, he saw: To trust all seene, his owne eyes scarce could draw. With such fierce flames of quicke sulphurious scath, Doth Rome promoue, approue her Cath'licke Faith. Alas, Christs truth into Kings Courts, ne're came, With Swords, with Poysons, Pistols, Powder-flame; Couer'd with Satans knauish-cloakes, to slay, Till Romes Philistims grew so great, so gay. Did Peter fish for Kings in streames of blood? No, Belzebub can fish best in that flood. To be catcht-vp in Bloud, as Peters fish, And pay so deare for Rome, Ile neuer wish.

O thus, euen thus, each Romish-Traitour, hath A Vault to hide his Treason, as his Faith. Oft bloody blasts from Romes Tarpeian Towre, Brake forth, and did thousands of Soules deuoure. Fire-spitting Brats, igneous Ignatius bred: If Iesuites be his Brood (as so 'tis sed.) Religion hath beene euer fring'd with fraud, And Piety beene made foule Treasons Bawd. While Iesuites doe what them the Pope hath bidden: Vnder their Mealy-mouthes foule Fiends lye hidden. The Churches Weapons (once) were Prayers and Teares: Romes Weapons (now) Swords, Fire-brands, Poysons, Speares. Viperous-Imps are in Romes bowels bred: And truely barbarous, boystrous is her Head. Boasters in Blood, in Fire, in Swords, in Rapes: Thou'dst Papists iudge; foule Deuils in Mens faire shapes. Though many props doe Romes Religion stay; Their Chiefest hold on Sword and Fire they lay. But, whil'st thus oft their Flocks they fleece, o're-throw: They Signes of Romish Faith and False-hood show. Within, foule Crimes; without, Reuenge they beare: Acts against Christ none vnaueng'd appeare. Alas, why by two deaths, thought Tisiphone, On ours to prey, and then to slay her owne. For, Rockey Peters Chayre, Faiths Rock to bee: Thou, by Salt-Peter, Powder, Fire, wouldst see. But now, the World their Papall pranckes espies: And Romish Rhea shames at hir owne Lyes. Romes Ram-like Actors came vpon the Stage: But God oppos'd their hatefull Actiue-Rage. O Rome, thou buildest Nests; Birds, canst not hatch: Acknowledge then, Gods Hands, Gods Eyes thee watch.

Thus Babels brood her Birth could not bring out: Whereof prime pregnant Hope, made them past doubt. Damn'd Dirae sighed and hells furies fum'd: Yea, Plutos pallace shooke, as nigh consum'd: Because their hellish hopes tooke none effect, And heauen did timely their deceit derect. Reioyce blest Brittaine in this New-saluation: And keepe That day with endlesse recordation. Christ freed thy Soule from hell fire, and this fire Than euer any flame, to hels, came nigher. That day which they Britaines blacke-Day would see, Nouembers fifth, Britaines bright-day shall be. The day was Tews-day, but by Popish spight, Papists Ash-Wednesday, it had beene more right. Daniell, deliuered from the Lions den, Had not such cause to praise God, as We, then: For, rage of roaring Lyons, oft, is tam'd: But, Romes fierce Wrath is quenchlessely enflam'd. For euer, then, fell Papists, howle, lament, Your Popish Powder-Pieties Intent. For, all the Oceans floods will ne're make cleane (Perfidious Rome (thy knauish Sinke obscene. Englands Transalpinated Papistrie. Hath wrought such oft Blood-smeared crueltie. Breeds our Transmarine Trauaile so light minde? Let's then by Law be to our homes confinde. For doubtlesse, this detestable foule fact Was counsell'd, courag'd, by the Popes compact. For, he which bids doe, whats almost done: he In's will doth worke must stay't or authour be. Had he not cast Paternall care from's heart: He'd ne're haue playd such a Step-fathers part.

Who from his Bubble-bellowing Bulls boiles out, All Caco-curses, hellish Broiles about. And thus he saies: Let one-day England make, One Graue, whose note on future day shall shake. Vices Vice-roy, or Vice It selfe, is Hee, Who, Peters Chaire dares foule with Villanie. We read, that when the High-Priest vs'd to enter Gods Holyest-Place: without Blood Hee'd not venture. So, Romes High-Priest vnlesse some blood hee taste, To's Shiloh Synagogue doth seldome haste. Thus one of many facts we haue found out: Heare Others (now) not better Ones, I doubt. To All Sins, fuell this Dispenser findes: And much fine-Flowre out of Crimes-corne he grinds. Popes Pardons purge foule Homicides most white: Makes blots and spots of bloody Daggers bright. And if, this Priest of Romes rare Rocke, dispense, Thou quit maist sit free from all foule offence. Or, if the Lawes strict Act thee guilty make: Deaths deadly Act on Thee no hold shall take. Antichrists Bull and Christs Blood are nere kin: For, that, as this, pardons and pures All Sin. If Romes blest Bishop warres, wiles, periurie, Commands as iust; iust they are, instantly. For, the Popes pleasure is all deeds direction: 'Tis Law of Lawes to yeeld him sole subiection. Thou, then, Who bids, not what Hee bids, take heed: And doe his Will, with Courage and with Speed. And doe his Will; for Christ did All Command, To the Lord God of Romes high Hests to stand. His Fist, Arme, Shoulders, Warlike Engines are: Least Hee grow Mad (then) haue a speciall care.

For, first, these regall Rites Christ Peter gaue: And to Romes Peter, Prot••-Pope most braue. But, Romes rich Patriarke to be Peters Heire, Saint Peters Chaire and Miter, There, declare. All Crownes, Thrones, Kingdomes, through Earths ample scope; Christ gaue to Peter, Peter to the Pope. And Hee which Fathers moues, Himselfe approues, Patrician; But, Hee, Father Peter moues. Therefore, all th' honour Christ to Peter gaue, Our Lord the Pope (I surely hope) must haue. And, in prime Peter All rare Acts you see, Must this Petreian-Patrons Actions bee. The word is vaine, vertue comes not by kinde: Saint Peters off-Spring wee excepted finde. But, Peters pious Life, and last Confession: In the Popes Chaire, find no Chaire, nor Impression. Peters faint-Faith (O Christ) Thee thrice denide: Full oft the Pope (Vice-Christ) doth Thee deride. Yet, Peters teares shew'd Peter penitent: But, no man euer saw the Pope repent. Lastly, for Thee, Peter did gladly dye: The Pope thy Members murthers cruelly. See, who'l deny the Pope to haue (as due) Sure Shape, Staffe, Stoole, of Peter Martyr true, Rules not wise Palinurus in Romes Ocean, Peters tall Ship, without least Slip in's motion? Peters Ship (sure) on many a Rocke and Shelfe Hee driues; and is the Ships worst Rocke Himselfe.