Part of this summers travels, or News from hell, Hull, and Hallifax, from York, Linne, Leicester, Chester, Coventry, Lichfield, Nottingham, and the Divells Ars a peake With many pleasant passages, worthy your observation and reading. By Iohn Taylor.

Newes from Hell, with a short description of the Hell at Westminster.

NOt from that Hell where souls tormented lye In endlesse Death, and yet shall never die, Where gnashing cold, commixt with flames still burning, Where's entrance free, but never back returning: Where nought but horrour, fiends, and torments dwell; I bring no news from that accursed Hell; Yet mine own merits are of such low price, To barre me from Celestiall Paradise, And sinke me in that horrid Lake infernall, But that my hope and faith is fixt supernall. The Hell I write of is well known to be A place of pleasure, and for all men free,

Where wretched Ghosts are not in torments stayd, For all the pains upon the purse is laid. To finde this Hell you need not travell farre, 'Tis understood the high Exchequer Barre At Westminster, and those who thither venter, Do not give Cerberus a sop to enter, For Charons fury, you need never feare it, (Although ten thousand do land somwhat neer it) Within this Hell is good content and quiet, Good entertainment, various sorts of diet, Tables a score at once, in sundry places, Where hungry mouthes fall to, and say short Graces, And then (in some sort) I may parallell This earthly Hell, with the infernall Hell. Hot sweltring vapours, Pots, and Cauldrons boy∣ling, Great vehement fires, with roasting, stewing, broy∣ling; The Cooks & Scullions, all be smear'd and smoak'd, And in their Masters Grease well stew'd & soak'd, And had the Devill a stomack unto it, The Cook himselfe is not the rawest bit. Like as th'infernall Hell doth entertain All commers, so this Hell doth not refrain To give free welcome unto every one If money fayle not, there's excepted None. This Hell is govern'd by a worthy Duke That Pluto like, his under fiends rebuke,

There the tormenting Tapster is control'd, If courteously he Nick not (as he should) He must attend at every knock and rap, His reverend Iugge deckt with a frothy cap, He fils and empts, and empts and fils again Like Sisyphus, he toyles, but not so vain, Like Danaus daughters, taking up, and spilling, He's always emptying, and he's never filling. Thither the Counsellour for comfort comes To rince his toyling tongue, and wash his gums, The Client having Tityus empty maw (His guts tormented with the Vulture Law) He comming to this Hell may finde reliefe, Of comfortable Plumbroath, and Roast Biefe. There, for your solace you may feed upon Whole Seas of Pottage, hot as Phlegeton, And midst those Seas, by art, the Cooks hath laid Small Iles of Mutton, which you may invade With stomack, knife and spoon, or tooth and naile, With these, the victory you cannot faile. Therefore this earthly Hell is easier farre, Then where the miserable damned are, There's no redemption from that black Abisse, And here regresse, as well as egresse is, Therefore they falsly do mistake the story, To call this Hell, which is but Purgatory, For here's no Thraldome, from this place you may Get present freedome, if the shot you pay.