Brachy-martyrologia, or, A breviary of all the greatest persecutions which have befallen the saints and people of God from the creation to our present times paraphras'd by Nicholas Billingsly ...

THE Persecution of the Church Under the PAPACY.

SECT. XX.

The Persecution of the Waldenses, which began Anno Christi 1160.

WHen the black cloak of Popery was hurl'd Upon the shoulders of the christian world, The saints still labour'd to dispel away Those shades Cimmerian, and reveal the day With truth's bright lustre; and withall devest The Roman glory. One among the rest, A learn'd and godly man at Lions, whose name Was Peter Valdo, much oppos'd the same; Declaring plainly Transubstantiation To be no better then an Innovation: He mov'd the cred'lous people to embrace The precious offers of the means of grace. They which unto his Doctrine gave respect, From him were called the Waldensian Sect:

Which like a Snow-ball rowling down a hill, Decreased nothing, but increased still. Though ev'ry day and hour the Martyrs bleed, Yet is the Martyrs blood the Churches seed. This her'sy in a thousand Citys swarms, Maintaining seventy thousand men of arms: Nor could the popish Canons, Constitutions, Curses, Decrees, alter their resolutions: To suffer wrong, in body, goods, or name, For Christ his sake, was counted not a shame. Valdo yet still proceeds (nor can he hope Long life) to publish to the world, the Pope Is Antichrist; the Mass abominable; The Host an Idol; Purgator' a fable. Pope Innocent the third,* 1.1 did authorize Monkish Inquisitors for to surprize These Her'ticks (as he call'd them) by process, That so the sec'lar power might them suppress, Is any rich, the inquis'cors had a trick To make him poor, Oh he's an Heretick, Let him have such a death; no power controul'd Or curb'd them in; but what they would, they would. If any, water, or a pad of straw, Gave to the Saints, he was condemn'd by law. If any advocate, assaid to plead His kinsmans cause an Action indeed! And if an Heir, his father that way leans, And that's enough to rob him of his means. Nay, for to keep the people in more aw, They prisoners do in their processions draw Triumphantly; injoyning them to vex And scourge themselves; with ropes about their necks, A torch in either hand, others along Must pass, to terrify the gazing throng.

Besides all these, they have a thousand Querks; They send cut some to fight against the Turks And Infidels; (no need to seek for heires) Their houses, goods, and chattels, all are theirs. At their return, if any ask'd their wives VVho lay with them? They 'ndangered their lives. The foes confess'd, they had not wherewithall To build up prisons for th' accused all: And yet for all this persecution, there Above eight hundred thousand Christians were.* 1.2 The faith encreas'd, and with a prosp'rous gale Clim'd o're the Alps came to Pragela's vale; From thence the people bordered upon St. Martin, Piedmont, La Perouse Angrogne. Wander there did innumerable flocks Upon the craggy cliffs, and algid rocks. Above three thousand being hid in caves, VVere stifled by these marble-hearted slaves. The poor Waldenses by their pray'rs and tears Oft mov'd the Lord to free them from their fears. Two horsemen flying, cry'd, They come, they come; Another while, the beating of a drum Caused their foes retreat: which stones, and slings, They thousands kill'd at several skirmishings. Thus God for his despised Saints did fight. A handful putting num'rous foes to flight. But when the godless party overcame, They did commit their captives to the flame, Or hang'd them up, or cut them out in quarters; All which discourag'd not the glorious Martyrs. Through the industrious Waldenses toil, Abundant store of Corn, and VVine, and Oil, Enrich'd Calabria; And God did bless Their pains in Provence, with the like success.

At last when freely they the Gospels worth Began to publish, Pope Pins the fourth Disturbing them, they left behinde their goods, VVith wives and children flying into th' woods; But were pursu'd; some slain and others wounded, Some famine-pined souls in caves were found dead, And they that were of St. Xist and la Garde, VVere rack'd, strip'd whip'd nor old nor young was Panza slays eighty, and stakes up their joynts (spar'd For thirty miles together; he appoints A quarter to each stake, Merindol Town VVas razed by Opede, and batter'd down, The Cabrierians brought into a field, VVere hack'd to pieces cause they would not yield, And in a barn replenished with straw VVomen were fir'd. Opede himself did draw Young Infants from their mothers ••ip'd-up bellies; His men kill'd them of Aix and Marseilles; Some two and two, together bound, they slew And boots of scalding oil (O cruell) drew On others legs, But heav'n at last decreed A woful end, to that accurs'd Opede. The Waldenses, which into Albs came, Of Albigenses thence receiv'd the name, Pope Al'xander the third, his wrath did smoke When they shook off his Antichristian yoke; He them condemn'd as Het'ticks, yet they spred, And many potent Towns inhabited: Nay many Lords, and Earls, did with them side, Against the Pope, and constantly deny'd The Romish faith, and resolutely spake Their willingness to suffer for Christs sake. Beziers was stormed by the Pilgrim train, And in it sixty thousand persons slain.

The Legat saies, Souldiers kill old and young, For why? God knoweth those to him belong. The Catholicks besieg'd and batter'd down On the inhab'tants heads Carcasson Town. When Baron Castle was surpriz'd, th' enclos'd Of th' Albigenses were disey'd, disnos'd, Then sent to Cab'ret with an one-ey'd guide. Yet still like gold that's in a furnace tri'd, The Saints, appear'd; their sparkling zeal like fire Blown by afflictions bellows, blaz'd the higher. Now Luther rose, the Antichristian terror, And those that were seduc'd, reduc'd from error.

SECT. XXI.

The Persecution of the Church of God in Bo∣hemia, which began Anno Christi 894.

BOrivojus, Duke of Bohemia, Entring the confines of Moravia, By a strange providence was Christianiz'd, And with him thirty Pal'tines were baptiz'd. At his return, he raised from the ground Churches, and Schools; and all the Country round Flock'd thither: many of the Noble race, As well as Commons, did the Truth embrace. Malicious Satan env'ing the progress The Gospel made, gainst those that it profess Rais'd persecution up: Borivojus Is sent into exile. Sanguineous Drahomira' the Christian temples locks, Forbidding Ministers to tend their flocks;

And in the silent night, three hundred lives Pay'd tribute to the bloody cut-throats knives. But Gods just Judgement, Drahomira follow'd, The opening earth, her and her Cart up swallow'd. The Popish party having got the day, Did all the obvious Bohemians slay. At Cuttenburge four Thousand souls were thrown Into the Metal-Mines; O hearts of stone! The Priests cry out, Blow out, good people, blow These sparks, before into a flame they grow: Water is us'd; the more they did endeavour To drown the Saints, they flamed more then ever: Many are scourg'd, some sent into exile. Two German Merchants brought unto the pile, Exceedingly encourag'd one another: One sayes, Since Christ hath suffered (dear brother) For wretched us, let's do the same likewise For him; and such a high-bred savour prize, That we are counted worthy so to die For his sweet sake: the other did reply, The joy that in my Marriage-day I found, Was small to this; O this doth more abound! Both cry'd aloud, (the Faggots set on fire) Blest Christ, thou in thy torments didst desire Thine en'mies peace; the like we also crave: Forgive the King; let not the Clergy have: Thy scalding vengeance; O forbear to plague The poor misled inhabitants of Prague: O be thou pleas'd to let them Scot-free go: For Ah! poor souls, they know not what they do; Their hands are full of blood: they pray'd and wept; And wept and pray'd, till in the Lord they slept. On Noble-men intolerable Fines Were laid; two hundred eminent Divines

Are exil'd; some are burned; others brain'd; Some shot to death; with blood the earth's destain'd. The Martyrs one by one, that were in hold, Are called forth; who resolutely bold Hast to their sufferings, with as great content, As if they had unto a banquet went. When one was called for, he thus exprest Himself, in taking leave of all the rest: Farewel, dear friends, Farewel; the Lord support Your spirits, that you may maintain the fort Against the common foe; and make you stout, And resolute to keep all batt'ry out; That what you lately with your mouths profest, You may by your so glorious death attest. Behold, I lead the way, that I may see My Saviours glory; you will follow me To the fruition of my fathers sight. O how my soul is ravish'd with delight! This very hour all sorrow bids, adieu To my glad heart: O now my joyes renew: Transcendent joyes! heaven and eternity Is mine, is mine. Then did the rest reply, God go along with you: O heaven we pray Assist thy servant, in his thorn-pav'd way. O may the willing Angells come to meet Thy obvious body, and direct thy feet Into thine, and our Fathers Mansion: Go, go, dear brother go; and we anon Shall follow after, and be all receiv'd To bliss through Christ in whom we have believ'd. Farewel, farewel; let equal joyes betide To us that follow, and to you our guide. First the Lord Schlick, a man as wise as grave, Condemned to be quarter'd, did behave

Himself most gallantly, and said, My doom Me pleaseth well, what care I for a Tombe? A Sepulchre is but an easie loss; Fear death? not I: welcom my crown, my cross: Let, let these limbs be scatter'd here and there; I have Gods favour, and I do not fear The worst that foes can do: see how the Sun Displaies his shining beams. Jesuites be gon, And build not Castles in the empty air, For I dare die for Christ; I that I dare. Be pleas'd, blest Jesus, thorough deaths dark night, To Manu-duct me to eternal light; Eternal light! O what a happy sound That word reports! my soul, at a rebound Catch heaven, catch heaven: no sooner had he spoke, But he submitted to the fatal stroke: His right hand, and his head (lop'd off his shoulders) Are hung on high, to terrify beholders. The Lord Wenceslaus, seventy years old, B'ing next, was asked, why he was so bold In Fred'ricks cause: he said, My conscience run Along with me; and what is done, is done. My God, lo here I am, dispose of me, Thine aged servant, as best pleaseth thee: O send that grim-look'd messenger, that staies For none, to end these miserable dayes; May I not see the ruines that do wait Upon our sinking, our declining State. Behold this Book; my Paradise was never So cordial as now: Judges, persever In sucking Christian blood; but know, Gods ire Shall smoak you for't. Up starts a cowled Fryer, And said, Your Judgement errs. With this reply, He answer'd him, I on the truth rely,

And not on bare opinion; Christ's the Way, The Truth, the Life; in him I cannot stray. Then stroaking his prolixed beard, he said, My gray hairs honour serves you: having pray'd, And giv'n his soul to Christ his Saviour, His cut-off head was fixed on the Tower. Lord Harant next was call'd, who bravely said, I've travell'd far, and many journeys made Through barb'rous countries and escaped dangers By sea and land▪ yet was my life by strangers Surrepted not; b'ing safe returned home, My friends and Country-men my foes become: For whom I, and my Grandsires have let fall And wasted our estates, our lives and all. Forgive them father; I O Lord have grounded My faith in thee; let me not be confounded. Then on the Scaffold thus: O Lord, I give My spir't into thine hands; in hope to live By Christ his death, according to thy word: And so he yielded to the murth'rous sword. Sir Caspar Kaplitz, eighty six years old, Said to the Minister, Behold behold Me a decrepit wretch, whose frequent pray'rs Have beg'd deliverance from this vale of tears; But all in vaine: for to be gaz'd upon By the worlds eyes I'm kept; God's will be done, Not mine; my death to mortal eyes may seem Disgraceful, but 'tis rich in Gods esteem. Oh Lord my God my trembling feet support, For fear my sudden fall occasion sport To my observing foes. The Minister (Perceiving that the excutioner Could not perform his office as he meant, His crookedness b'ing an impediment)

Bespake him thus; My Noble Lord, as you Commended have your soul to Christ, so now Advance your hoary head to God: he try'd What he could do: his head struck off, he dy'd. Then the Lord Oito, a judicious man, Having receiv'd the sentence, thus began: And do you then, O Caesar still think good For to stabilitate your throne with blood? Can God be pleas'd with this? say Tyrant say: How will you answer't at that dreadful day? Kill this my body; do, let my blood fill Your veins; disperse my members where you will; Yet this is my belief, My loving father Will be so pleas'd as them together gather, And cloath them with their skin; these very eyes Shall see my Lord, where e're my body lies: These ears shall hear him; and this very tongue Ring peals of joy; his praises shall be sung By this same heart of mine. I must confess, I was perplex'd at first; but now; I bless My God, I finde a change: I was not troubled So much, but now my joyes are more redoubled; I fear not death; now death hath lost her sting: To die with joy O 'tis a pious thing! Am nor I sure, Christ and his Angels will Guide me to heaven, where I shall drink my fill Of those Celestial cups, those cups of pleasure, And measure drinking, though not drink by measure? Shall then this death have power to divide My soul from him? the heavens open wide: See where my finger points. The standers by Beheld eye-dazeling cortuscancy. After a silent prayer made, he spake, Lord save thy servant; Oh some pity take:

I am thy creature; O let me inherit Christ-purchas'd glory: Lord receive my spirit. Next, Dionysius Zervius (that storm'd Against the saints; but) when he was inform'd Of Gospel-truths, how Christ procured rest For those believ'd, he forthwith smote his brest, And fetch'd a sigh, while tears ran down; did cry, This is my faith, and in this faith I'll die: Through Christ alone, I can acceptance finde, Yet God will not despise my contrite minde; Upon these knees, these bended knees, I call For mercy; mercy, Lord: although I fall, Help me to rise in thee: My foes controul May hurt my body, but not hurt my soul. An aged man b'ing brought, both these commended Their souls unto the Lord; so their lives ended. Next was the Lord of Rugenice arraign'd; Who said, I have a greater priv'ledge gain'd, Then if the King had spar'd me, and augmented My restor'd substance; and am more contented. God is our witness, that we onely sought Religions Liberty; for that we fought: Who, though w'are worsted, and must end our days, The Lord is righteous in all his ways. His Truth we must defend, (as he sees good) Not by our naked Swords, but by our Blood. What is the cause, my God? O tell me why, So soon as others do, I may not die? For ah! thou knowst, thou knowst that I resign My self unto thee, and am wholly thine. Put not thy servant off with long delay, But take me hence: sweet Jesu come away. The Sheriff came for him; he rejoycing said, Blessed be God: then towards him he made.

Upon the Scaffold, he himself did chear With that of Christ, Father, I will that where I am, thy servants may there also be, That they may my heaven-given glory see: I haste to lose this life, so transitory, That I may be with Christ and see his glory. Climbe up my soul, climbe up to be embrac'd In Christ his arms: and so he breath'd his last. Valentine Cockan spake to this effect, Upon the Scaffold: Gracious Lord, direct My feeble steps; O let deaths valley be A Pasport to the clearer view of thee; For why? thy word hath bin my hidden treasure; O what satiety of joy and pleasure Take residence with thee! there's nothing can Afford my soul more satisfaction than Thy self's fruition: Lord, my spirit flies Into thy Courts: so having said, he dies. Next, Toby Steffick's brought, a man whose heart Walk'd upright with his God; though like a cart Press'd with afflictions sheaves, to heaven he heav'd His wasted eyes, and said, I have receiv'd From the beginning of my life till now, Good things of God, and shall not I then bow My will to his, but his chastisements shun? I will not; no, God's holy will be done. Can I, poor dust and ashes, have the face To plead with God? I chearfully embrace Thy pleasure, Lord; I come to bear the cross; O be thou pleas'd to purge away my dross: Calcine my soul; obliterate my sins; And make me pure against that day begins. He pray'd; and having drunke the lethal cup, His spirit into heaven ascended up.

Doctor Jessenius after him was Martyr'd, His tongue cut out, head off, his body quarter'd (Citing the saying of Ignatius) Chears his co-sufferers, We are Gods corn, Sown in the Churches field, and must be torn By beasts, to fit us for our Masters use: But here's our comfort, one a bloody sluce The Church is founded, and hath been augmented By blood, nor shall the opened vein be stented. The blow must now be fetch'd; his soul he gave To heav'n, his body to the gaping grave. Then being call'd to execution; I come, said he; a pious resolution Takes up my heart; I'm not asham'd, nor sory To suffer these (nay worse things) for his glory; I have, I have, by my heav'n-borrow'd force Fought faith's good fight, and finished my course. Then praying, Father, in thy hands I leave My spir't; he did a Martyrs crown receive. John Shunlt is, while he on the Scaffold stood, Said thus, Leave off this melancholy mood, Dejected soul: O be not so cast down: Hope thou in God; though for a time he frown, Yet will he smile again, and thou shalt yet Praise him, though Nature do receive her debt. The righteous are among the dead enrold By fools, whenas they rest: Behold! behold! I come sweet Jesus: O some pity take Unon thy creature, for thy promise sake. Cast me not off, my misery condole; My sins O pardon, and receive my soul: Make no long tarriance; come, Lord Jesus, come: And so he underwent his Martyrdome.

Next Maximilian Hoslialeck, (Whom Learning, Worth, and Piety did deck:) After the sentence past, one asked him The reason why he look'd so dull, so grim, And sadder then the rest: To rell the truth, The sins (said he) I acted in my youth Come now afresh into my minde: for though I know that no remainder can o'rethrow Them which with Jesus Christ have made a close; Yet know I, that the Lord his Justice flowes As well as mercy, on those are his own. Summon'd to death, he said, Lord, from thy throne Look on me, O illuminate mine eyes, Left death o'recome me, and mine enemies Insulting say, We have prevail'd. O Lord, (Be pleased to make good thy promis'd word) Let me whose eyes have thy salvation seen Depart in Peace: an Ax did pass between His head and neck. Then four more Christian brothers They hanged one by one, and begger'd others. Nor might they have the ben'fit of the Laws: When some did plead the Justness of their cause, The Judges scoff'd them, thus; Although you ha'nt Sins that are actual, yet you do not want Th'orig'nal sin of Heresie, and store; You can't exempted be from death therefore. The Saints deprived of their livelyhoods In towns and villages, retir'd to th'woods. The Parent his encloystred child bemoans, But cannot help it. Oh! the griefs and groanes Of marriagable maids! what sad farewels Take parting friends, when into Monkish cells Fore'd are their neer'st relations! Great mens sons, Fryets must tutour. and their daughters Nuns.

Wives from their husbands, husbands from their wives Part with wet eyes: some thousands lost their lives; Others were stripp'd in frosty snowy weather; While some imprison'd lay, and starv'd together, The Mass-priests are the men that must be heard, And rude men, if Apostates, were prefer'd. Bol'slavia the principallest seat The brethren had (two hundred years compleat) Was seized on; her Ministers turn'd out, And crafty Friers to pervert the rout Plac'd in their rooms: but when this would not do, They must into a stinking dungeon go. The Cities Bidsove, Tusta, Zaticum, Litom'ric, Rokizan, Radecium, Don Murtin, all were brought to desolation, Under a fair pretence of reformation. Some Citizens were into exile sent; Some into voluntary exile went. The maj'r and sixteen hundred persons more, At Pracbatice, lay weltring in their gore. They threw Religion down, where ere they come, And set up superstition in the room. As for the Bible, Christians were forc'd from it, Wiblia (the Bohemian word) is vomit; Nor was there (O most dámnable designe!) A toleration giv'n to Books divine. The mouths of some are gagg'd, the Host they do Thrust down their throats, whether they will or no. Others t'auricular confession forc'd; And many were from all they had divorc'd To tell how they the women-kinde did use, Is not so proper for a modest Muse.

SECT. XXII.

The Churches Persecution in Spain, which be∣gan Anno Christi 1540.

A Spanish Factor Francis Roman nam'd, Hearing at Breme a Sermon, was s'enflam'd And wrought upon, that in a little space He grew in knowledge, and encreas'd in grace. Upon a time when he return'd agen, He labour'd to convince his country-men Of blind-fold ign'rance; for the wayes they trod Were dissonant unto the word of God. But they reproachfully despis'd, contemn'd His words, and him unto the fire condemn'd. Then with a paper-Mitre on his head, Painted with ugly Demons, was he led To execution: and by the way Being urg'd to bow unto a cross, said, Nay, The Christians are not wont to worship wood: So having said, he was the fire's food. How many honest-hearted persons cast Into infectious dungeons, breath'd their last! The pris'ners cloath'd with red-cross'd Sambitoes, Were at Validolid plac'd all in rowes.* 1.3 The inquisition was first invented By the Domin'can Friers; who attented The extirpation of the Christian race, By death, or ignominious disgrace. One while they strive with flatt'ries to ensnare The doubting Christian e're he be aware:

And if they see that fair means will not do, They exercise compulsion. O who! Who is there able to demonnstrate fully The kinde of torments that were us'd? the pully Hang'd on the Gibbit, holds the hands or thumbs Of the poor wretch; then the Strappado comes, And rends his weight-distended joynts a sunder. Some in the Trough are tortur'd; some are under Cruel imprisonments, where is not any Light but what enters the Key-hole or crany. Some are injoyn'd to run unto the racks, With yellow Sambenitoes on their backs: Their tongues in a cleft-stick have not the scope To empty Out their mindes; and while a rope Encompasseth their necks, coacting bands Press hard behinde them their united hands. Thus, thus poor Creatures, in a piteous plight, Are led to suffer in the peoples sight. Burton and Burgate,* 1.4 Burgess, Hooker, Baker, English-men born, were each of them partaker Of Martyrdom at Cadiz; and ascended To happiness, which never shall be ended.

SECT. XXIII.

The Churches Persecution in Italy, which began Anno Christi 1546.

ENeenas, by his Parents sent to Rome For educations sake; at last become An able Scholar through the grace of God, In Christ his School, the wayes the Romans trod Renouncing quite: for which he's apprehended, And clapt up; yet he constantly defended The Christian faith: he with his life might go, If he would but put on the Sambito; Which he refus'd; nor any badge would wear Save that of Jesus Christ; which was, to spare No blood to seal up what he had profest: So being burn'd, he in the Lord did rest. The Maj'r and Bishop of St. Angelo Long arguing the case, which of the two Should, at his proper cost, procure some wood, For Galeacius burning; while they stood Demurring, he bade them no more debate, It should be fetch'd out of his own estate. John Mollius, a Roman, did Christ own: If he but named him, salt tears ran down On his wet cheeks: he preach'd where e're he came The word of truth, until he fed the flame, One Francis Gamba, born in Lombardy, Went to the slaughter with alacrity. Algerius, a fine young man, acquaints, By way of writing, the afflicted Saints,

How much his joy in prison did abound, And how he Honey in a Lion found: Exhorting them to patience; in the end Writes, From a delectable Orchard pen'd; He's burned. Pope Pius the fourth dislives At Naples, many Nobles, with their wives. The City Venice after twelve years peace, Was by the Pope disturb'd, to the encrease Of Martyr'd Saints; who unto stones were bound, And in the bottom of the Ocean drown'd.

An Englishman Martyred in Portugal.

One William Gardiner, whom Bristol bore, In Portugal the Martyrs Garland wore.

SECT. XXIV.

The Persecution of the Church in Germany, which began Anno Christi 1523.

WHen Luther, with his fellow-labourers, Converted many Germans, unto wars The Pope his Highness stir'd up Charles the fift 'Gainst Proestants: to further this his drift, Two hundred thousand crowns, and at a boot Five hundred horse, and twice six thousand foot, He sent with speed; the Prot'stant Princes hence, Rais'd also Armies for their own defence: And now the Emp'rour for no other reason, Proclaim'd them guilty of no less then treason.

Both parties are engag'd; but the success Is left to God, who doth not alwayes bless The better cause with Victory, nor shield His Saints from wrong; the Christians lost the field. The persecution rose in sev'ral places; Author'ty arm'd with rig'rous Laws, outfaces Candid simplicity: 'tis sad to tell The barb'rous outrage to the Saints befel. Some rack'd; from place to place some toss'd and turn'd; Some driven into woods and caves; some burn'd. † 1.5 About this time, the Boors in arms did the And rob'd the Abbeys, and Monasteries; They after they had entertained bin By Mr. Spencer, strip'd him to the skin; Who weeping, said, This violence will i'th'end Bring mischiefe on your heads: you do pretend The Gospel; but alas! how quite contraire Unto the Gospel-rules, your walkings are! They jeer'd him for his pains; at last he's bound Both hands and feet, and in the river drown'd. His gaping wounds let out a Crimson flood, Which on the surface of the water stood. When Wolfgang Scuch was asked if his woe He would have be abridg'd, heanswer'd, No; God, which hath hitherto upheld my head, Will not forsake me in my greatest need; No, no, he will not: 'tis a happy flame Which lights to heaven, thrice blessed be his name. George Carpenter b'ing cast into the fire, Fulfill'd his Christian bretherens desire, In giving them a signe of his true faith, Cry'd, Jesus, Jesus ••ill ••e lost his breath. Our Leonard Keyser also at the stake, Said, I'm thine, save me Lord, for thy Truths sake:

His willing spir't impatient of the flame Went up to heaven, whence at first it came. A cruel Bishop in Hungaria, took A godly minister, (who could not brook Erroneous wayes) and Hares, Geese, Hens, he tide His naked body with on ev'ry side: Being by set-on dogs, and bloody hounds, All rent and torn, he died of his wounds. But God is Just: the Bishop that so acted His cruel part, did forthwith fall distracted: His hair by handfulls from his head did rend, And raving, made a miserable end.

SECT. XXV.

The Persecution of the Church in the Low-Coun∣tries.

THere was in Holland a religious Dame, Called Wendelmuta, she for Christ's name Was sent to prison, where she must be kept Till the next Sessions; her kinde kindred wept And said thus, Ah! why doft thou not conceal What thou believ'st but madly thus reveal Thy secret thoughts? be more reserv'd, thereby Thou'lt life prolong. To whom she did reply, You know not what you say; the heart alone Believes to righteousness; confession Unto salvation with the tongue is made: She burn'd, her spirit did the heav'ns invade. George Scherter, a Divine, passing along Tow'rd execution, to the gazing throng

Delivered these words; That you may know I die-a Christian, I a signe will show: His head cut off, he turned on his back, And cross'd his arms and legs; by which aspect Many believe the Gospel; whom alive They bury, drown, or into exile drive. In Colen, Holland, Suevia, Lovain, The godly well-disposed part was slain. Some lost their heads in Flanders, some were sent Into perpetual imprisonment.* 1.6 Two hundred Saints in Art••ïs, Brabant, Were made away, with not a few at Gaunt. At Delden, two young Virgins well-descended, For their frequenting Sermons apprehended, Examin'd and condemn'd must both partake Of Martyrdom, and suffer at the stake. But after death the bodies of them both Remained white, the fire to hurt them loth. At Antwerp, one Christopher Fabri's brains Are beat cut with a hammer. Sev'ral pains Afflict the innocent; these bear great loads; Those are companions to Frogs and Toads. One Nicholas and Austine, with their wives, At Dormick apprehended lost their lives, When Nicholas did hear a Captain swear, He said, Hath Christ done ought that thus you tear His name in pices, rending life and limb? Pray vent your malice upon me, not him: B'ing silenc'd at the stake, Thwarting their will, He cry'd, O Charles wilt thou be hardned still? With that, a souldier gave him a great blow: He thus! Ah miserable people know, God's word's too good for you: the Fryars cry'd, A Devil, a Devil: with David, he reply'd,

Depart ye workers of iniquity; Depart, depart: my God hath heard the cry My weeping voice hath made; his holy name Be prais'd: so said, he vanish'd in the flame. At Dormick* 1.7 Bert'rand trod the Cake about; For which distongu'd, he yet on God call'd out: A ball is thrust into the mouth of him; He's burnt, and's ashes in the river swim. At Lile, for three years space in woods and caves God's word was preached: Satan and his slaves Took the advantage of the silent night So finde their meetings: finding none, they light On Robert Oquir's house; his wife, his sons And he, rejoyce in tribulations. Bound at the stake, their spirits they commend To God, and make a comfortable end

The Persecution of the Duke de Alva, in the Netherlands.

THe Gospel shining in the Netherlands; Philip, that wore the Spanish crown, commands The Duke de Alva, with a warlike train, To slay Professors, and with might and main, Promote the Romish Doctrin; to rebuke Nobles, and Commons too: the desep'rate Duke Scarce breath'd, but on them violently pour'd; Matrons he ravished, and Maids deflour'd Before their husbands and their parents eyes, Or put them unto worser cruelties. He on a time (at his own Table sate) Boasted his diligence t'eradicate Heret'cal weeds: for that besides the slain During the war in six years space, a train

Of more then eighteen thousand persons were By him deliv'red to the hangmans care. Don Frederick his son kindely receiv'd By Zutphen Bourgers, cruelly bereav'd The poor inhabitants of all their lives, Hang'd, drown'd, brain'd very infants, virgins, wives; Then marched he to Naerden; and the town (All the ind wellers kill'd) he bart'red down. At Harlem, he three hundered Walloons Beheads; five hundred Bourgers and Dragoons He hangs, or drowns: all th'English, and the Scorts, To lose their heads in gen'ral, he alots. The wounded, and diseas'd, are killed all Before the entrance to the Hospital John Herwin said unto the gazing throng, (As he to execution went along) See what rewards the wicked world do give Christ his poor servants: for whilst I did live A drunkard's life, and play'd at Cards and Dice, A foe to Vertue, and a friend to Vice; O then I liv'd at ease, and was a stranger To bonds, and fetters; nay was out of danger Of suffering for the Truth; yonder they cry A Boon Companion goes; who then but I? No sooner did I seek my God, but lo This fawning friend, became a frowning foe: Yet this doth not, (and so I hope shall never,) Discourage me one jot; I must persever In what is good, and follow Christ the faster: The servant is not better then his master. His soul refreshed then with Gileads Balm, To sing he did begin the thirtieth Psalm With lift-up heart: but an impatient Frier Thus interrupted him, Avoid the fire,

Oh John, and turn; yet you have time and space. Then disregarding Martyr turn'd his face Another way: then some that were in sight, Retorted this; Turn thou, thou hypocrite. Herwin sung on, until his Psalm was ended: The Fryer then: Good people ben't offended To hear the clamour of this Her'ticks song. Her'tick? thou Bala'mite thou, hold thy tongue, The crow'd reply'd; no living soul here bears Offence: his Musick much delights our ears. Four hundred folks encourag'd him to run His race, and finish what he had begun: To whom he thus; Breth'ren, I undertake This spir'tual Combate, meerly for the sake Of my great Lord, and Captain Jesus Christ: I now am going to be sacrifie'd; And when God shall of his abundant grace Call you to suffer, follow me apace. He's on the gallowes, and the ladder's turn'd, And then his body's into ashes burn'd. Some Ci'zens in a firy Chariot sent From Antwerp, to the City Heaven went. One Scoblant, as he to his Tryal past, Said thus; Would God that I might be the last That thus might suffer death; O that my blood Might satisfy their thirst, if God see good; That so the Church of Christ, forlorn, distreft, Might ever after live, at ease, and rest. I now put off this Mantle transitory, In hope to wear a robe of lasting glory. A Popish Priest, by a religious Dame Converted to the faith, spake thus: I came To comfort you; but I my self indeed, Of you to comfort me have greater need.

Christopher Gaud'rin said, Mans life on earth Consists but of two dayes; the first his birth; The next, his dying day: and therefore I Must needs die once: who would refuse to die To live for ever? death and I must kiss: 'Tis death conducteth to eternal bliss. The sentence past, he did apart repair, And poured out his soul to God in pray'r: Then from his hands and face he wash'd the dirt; And puting on his back a fine white shirt, He thus his fellow-prisoners bespake: Breth'ren, this is my wedding-day: I make To heav'n-ward: being come unto the place, He found three other ready to embrace The self same death: these four themselves did chear With patient suff'ring, and rejoye'd to bear. Then came a Fryar under a pretence To win them: Christopher said thus; Hence, hence, Thou soul-seduser; from our presence flee; We have not any thing to do whith thee. They must be gag'd: May not our tongues have pow∣er Said they, to praise God at our latest hour? Sermons they used to frequent: hard ropes Annex'd their necks, they finished their hopes. In Flanders multitudes of true believers Were sent to be eternal life's receivers. In Breda, there a Goldsmith dwelt, his name Was Petar Coulogue; whose renowned fame Had spred all o're the town, and ev'ry mouth Proclam'd him faithful, if they spake the truth. This Pious Deacon quickly was beset With popish catchpoles; neither would they let Him once enjoy the company of any Of his own Church; he over-pows'd by many

Was hurry'd to the Castle, while he staid A pris'ner there: once every day his maid Brought him his sustenance, till they perceiv'd He had much comfort from her lips receiv'd. She also was imprison'd, where she found Such inward joys as made her heart rebound. Now when a little tract of time was spent, Peter was called forth; who underwent Great pains with admirable patience: These cruel villains for to recompence His maids true zeal, fetch'd Betkin to the rack, Cruelry undeserv'd! she nothing slack, Went chearfully along; ere she did part With life, her tongue thus empty'd out her heart: Since needs I must sustain afflictions rod, First suffer me to pray unto my God. This they consented to; she scap'd a scouring By this; for whilst she out her pray'rs was pouring, One of the then. Commissioners fell down Into an irrecoverable swown. This miracle was hush'd, as though in vain 'Twas sent: now to their cruelty again; Examples will not take; they'll not be turn'd, They are condemned, and they must be burn'd. The people wept; Peter and Betkin pray'd To God for strength: the courage of the maid Did work so kindly on the well-affected, That breaking through (the danger unrespected) The throng'd crowd they the pris'ners did embrace, And praised God for his supporting grace; Then spake to this effect: Fight on, fight on, The crown prepared you shall wear anon. These words spake Betkin (with a brow as clear As day) My Bretheren and sisters dear,

See you to Gods word, be obedient still, And fear not them who can the body kill, Not hurt the soul; but rather fear him, who Hath power to kill the soul and body too, And fling them into hell. I go to meet My glorious Spouse, wrap'd in a fi'ry sheet. Then falling on their knees, they sent their prayers As welcom ghests to Gods attentive ears. Bound to the stake, they prais'd the Lord; the flame Sent up their souls to heav'n, from whence they came. William of Nassaw Prince of Orange, by A bloody villain shot, did thus let fly His latest words: O God, my God, condoul My wounded state, take pity on my soul, On my departing soul; O spare, O spare The Spanish people, though they sinful are. These words no sooner out, his soul forscok This earthly, and an heavenly Mansion took.

SECT. XXVI.

The Modern Persecution of the Church in Ger∣many, since the year 1630.

TH'Imperialists, when they by storm had gain'd Paswalick town, the Swedish souldiers brain'd: At the inhabitants their fury lavish'd, And in the open street, they females ravish'd, Nay, child-bed women too; they flew the men And fired o're their heads their houses then. They massacred Divines, and burned down The Christian Churches, and at last the town.

Tilly and Pappenheim became a scourge Unto the famous City Magdenburge:* 1.8 Her goodly structures and aspiring Towers Were burn'd down in the space of twice six hours. Without the least respect to old and young, Were six and twenty thousand slain burnt, flung Into the river Elve: by sev'ral wayes The torturers abridg'd poor Chrstians dayes. Ladies and Gentlewomen yok'd together, Forc'd into woods, in frosty snowy weather, Were ravish'd there, strip'd, whip'd, and with a scoff Dismiss'd, while others had their ears crop'd off. Hexter is taken,* 1.9 and the Popish rage Hew'd all in pieces, either sex, and age, All serv'd alike: what the fles-eating sword Had left unspoil'd, the greedy flame devour'd. At Griphenburge the Senators were starv'd; The Heidleburg Divines and Bourgers serv'd With onely bread and water. Like dogs not men Were the Frankendales us'd. In Pomeren The poor inhabitants were forc'd to eat Up their own excrements: unpleasing meat! Many suspected to have hidden Gold, Or silver, suff'red torments manyfold: With cords the heads of some they wound about, And twisted them until the blood did sprout Out of their eyes, ears, noses; nay, unto Tongues, Cheeks, Breasts, Legs, and secret parts they do Tie burning matches, yea, the parts of shame Stuff'd with gun-powder, burst with horrid flame. With knives and bodkins they do pink the skin And flesh of some, draw stiff cords out and in. Some rosted were with gentle fires, some smok'd Like bacon-hogs; others hot Ovens chok'd;

The hands and feet of some so hard were girted, That from their fingers ends and toes there spirted Sanguineous drops. They ty'd the arms and legs Of some together backwards, and with rags Ram'd up their mouths, because they should not pray. Some hung up by the privy members; they Hearing their outcries, did with tear-throat tones, Contend to drown their lamentable mones. Had any ruptures? they ealarg'd their pain By firing gunpowder: they faces plain With chisels; and detesticle some men I'th' presence of their wives and childeren. Others, stark naked through the streets are drag'd, VVounded with axes, hammers; some are gag'd And stinking water, Urine, and the like, Pour'd down their throats, till sudden sickness strike Them well-night' dead: their bellies beyond measure B'ing fill'd, did swell, and so they dy'd by leasure. Down others throats they knotted clouts constrain, Then with a packthread, pull them up again, To the displacing of their bowels; some VVere by'c made deaf. or blinde, or lame, or dum'b. Some have their legs sawn off; and others have Their members dislocated; those that crave Gods blest assistance, are enforc'd to call Unto the Dev'l for help, or none at all. And if the husband pleaded for his wife, Or the wife beg'd but for her husbands life, They take the intercessor, and likewise Excruciate him before the others eyes. Of many by their hard frications They bar'd the legs, unto the very bones. Others bound backward by the arms, were hung By those distorted parts; both old and young

Rather desired to be shot, or slain, And so die in an instant, then remain Alive, and be partakers of such woes As they were like to feel; for Ah! their foes Took away all their corn; in stead of bread, On roots and water, they were glad to feed. And other some, stripp'd to the very skin, Had not one sory ragg, to wrap them in. Hence fruitful soils, were utterly destroy'd, Cities, and towns, and villages left voyd, Or sack'd; all the woods fell'd; the ground untill'd; And ev'ry Church with desolation fill'd. A Reverend Divine, bound to a table, Was rortur'd by a cat. VVhat pen is able To paint their beastliness? maids wives, chast dames, They forc'd to prostrate to their lech'rous flames, Friends looking on; yea, women great with child, In child-bed ton: the Churches they defil'd; The Bedlam-houses, Hospitals also. In Hessen land they let the women go, After they ty'd about their ears their coats. Dead corpses violated were. The Croats Devour'd young infants, and the commons brain'd On light occasions; scarce a man remain'd Alive in many places, that might tell The outrage of those furies born in hell. God did this land his warning pieces show, Before his murth'ring-pieces gave the blow. A blood-red Comet with a flaming beard For thirty daies together there appear'd;* 1.10 God sent to those, which had so long abhor'd His faithfull Pastors, and despis'd his word, This ominous Torch, that while asleep they lie On the soft pillow of security,

They might b' awoken and repent reform Their lives, or otherwise expect a storme, Foretold by's Ministers, (so ill-befriended,) And which this formidable signe portended. At Groningen a blazing Star hung forth,* 1.11 One Army in the East, and in the North Another were engag'd and did contest Till that was worsted, this obtain'd the best.* 1.12 At Wien water turn'd to blood; three Suns Appear'd at once; the thundring of great guns Was heard; two Armyes then by clear day-light Deeply engaging in a bloody fight.* 1.13 At Wittemburgh and Darmstad, blood it rain'd.* 1.14 So much, that houses and stone walls were stain'd Therewith; trees wept red drops besmear'd were then The hands and sickles of the Harvest-men.* 1.15 At Rat'sbone a strange tempest bart'red down Above four hundred houses in the town; Kill'd onely four; it trees by th'roots up tore, And all within a quarter of an hour.* 1.16 Near Troppaw a great number of Jack Daws Eagerly fought with their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 claws, The battle lasted long and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Jacks Fall'n down the country men repieuish'd sacks. In lower Saxon a loaf of bread Bought by a woman in the cutting bled. During Magdenburge siege, a capeain's wife In child-bed dy'd,* 1.17 body with a knife Was ripped open, and her womb did hold A boy as big as one of three years old; Having an Helmet, and a breastplate on, Great boots also after the French fash'on, And by his side there hang'd a builet-pouch. At Altenburge,* 1.18 if any did but touch

A blood-turn'd stinking fish-pond, he not well Could in three dayes wash off the stinking smell. Two Armyes of strange birds in Henssen fought;* 1.19 A randevouz of dogs could not be brought T'a peace; but seeing musqueteers, they joyn, For all their guns beat them away, kill'd nine.

SECT. XXVII.

The Persecution of the Church in France, which began Anno 1524.

AT Melden, Paris, Fonutains, Lions, Rhone, Many were put to death, some burn'd, some thrown Into the liquid flood; into the fire Others let down by pulleys, did expire; Others with Oyl and brimstone were anointed, Then burnt; many distong'd; disnos'd dis-joynted: Some slander'd; some imprison'd were; some rack'd; And they that would not bow, nor give respect Unto the Images of molten-lead, Passing along the streets, were massacred. John Clark, through zeal, brake all the Idols down That he could light on: in the Metzian town, Condemn'd he was to die, and first to lose His right hand, then his arms, and breasts, and nose; VVhich quietly he bore, pronouncing then Their gods are silver, and are made by men: At last they burnt him. At the Castle Vik Doctor John Castellane was burned quick. James Pana••e one that educated youth, At Paris dy'd for the professed truth.

John de Cadurco, a renown'd Divine, Degraded was, and burnt at Limosine. One John de Beck a Minister at Troyes, Went through the fire unto eternal joyes, At Rutiers, Stephen Brune for Christ his sake, Adjudged was to suffer at the stake; The fire was kindsed, but the wind so drave The flame from him, that he stood up and gave (A whole hours space) instructions to the rude And easily-seduced multitude: They brought Oyl-vessels, and more faggots too; The wind continu'd, and all would not do. With that, the hangman struck him on the head: To whom he thus: And must I then indeed Be beaten like a dog? as well as I, You know by fire I am condemn'd to die. He was thrust through, and in the fire thrown down, And his left ashes in the Air were strown. At Bour deaux, Aymond de Lavey accus'd, His friends advis'd his flight, but he refus'd. Not so, said he, I shall be thought absurd. To feed men with vain dreams not Gods pure word. Whereas I fear not, as a truths defender. My soul and body too up to surrender. In pains he said, This body once must die, My spir't shall live, and that eternally. He swowned, but recov'ring, said he, Oh Lord, Lord, why hast thou sorsaken me? Nay, said the president, thou art mistook Curs'd Lutherane, thou hast thy God forsook: Alas good masters, why, why do you so Torment me? Lord, they know not what they do: Forgive them I beseech thee. See, said thus The Pres'dent, how this Caitiff prayes for us.

The Frier drew neer, and he (condemn'd) begins: To God, not you, will I confess my sins. O Lord, make hast to help; do not despise Thine-handy work. My brethren, I advise You that are Scholars, to improve your youth In learning of the everlasting truth: Labour to know what is Jehovahs will, And fear not them that can the body kill, Not hurt the soul: my flesh (too weak) withstands My spir't; which Lord I give into thine hands. With that he strangled was, his body burn'd, His soul until the day of Doom adjourn'd, One Bribard, to a Card'nal Secretary, And William Hussou an Apothecary Had, for their seattering good books about, And cleaving to the truth, their tongues cut out; Then with a pully pulled up and down Into the fire,* 1.20 they dy'd, but gain'd a crown. James Cobard,* 1.21 having prov'd the Mass a fable, Unto the quick nor dead not profitable, Was at St. Michael burnt.* 1.22 Stephen Polliot Suffred at Paris.* 1.23 Michael Michelet Was put unto his choice, either to turn And lose his head, or persevere, and burn. He answer'd, God who caus'd him not to tire, Would give him patience to abide the fire. Blondel a Merchant that profess'd Christs name, Condemn'd at Paris,* 1.24 yeilded to the flame. One Hubert,* 1.25 a young man, who did rely on Christ Jesus merits, suffered at Dyion. Anus Audeburt drag'd forth, said thus; This rope My wedding-girdly is, wherewith I hope To be conjon'd to Christ: I was first marri'd Upon a Saturday, and now have tarri'd

Until another Saturday, wherein I shall (glad day!) be married agin. She in the dung-Cart sang and in the fire Her constancy Spectators did admire. One Florent Venote, that had four years lain In Paris prison, where all kinds of pain He felt and overcome; for seven weeks space Was close confin'd to such a narrow place, That he could neither stand (with ease) nor ly: At last distongu'd,* 1.26 he in the fire did die. One Thomas, a young man, was rack'd so long, The hangman grew a weary: one among Th'Ir quis'tors wept. They bare him to be burn'd, And asked him, if he would yet be turn'd. To whom he said, Friends, I am in my way To God, O do not hinder me I pray. One Mathew Dimonel,* 1.27 Simon Laloe; And Peter Serre, did torments undergo. Two men at Nivern,* 1.28 had their tongues pull'd out; Yet God was pleas'd to bring it so about, That they spake plain, We bid the world, flesh, sin, And devil farewel, never to meet agin; Of brimstoue, and gunpowder bring a fresh Supply; salt on, salt on this stinking flesh: And so persisting constant till the last, Their souls to heaven, their earth to ashes past. One Philbert Hamlin fed the cruel flame,* 1.29 One Nicholas of Jenvil did the same.* 1.30 At Paris did a Christian congregation Run through much sorrow: by the Mediation Of the Palat'nate Prince, and Switzers, some Of them (hardly) escaped Martyrdome. In Danphin, Provence, multitudes were kill'd; In many other place blood was spill'd:

And yet the Church, the more it was supprest Like to a Palm, still more and more encreast.

SECT. XXVIII.

The Persecution in the time of the Civil Warrs, which began Anno 1562.

THe Duke de Guise, as he upon a day Tow'rds Paris past, took Vassy in his way: His ears informing him there was a Bell That rang to service in a Barn, he fell Thereon with all his troops: his widened throat Bawl'd out, Kill, death of God, each Huguenote. Some then with bullets, some with swords, were slain; Some hang'd; the heads of others cleft in twain: Some lost their arms and hands; some shred for To feed upon; above twelve hundred souls (fowles Of all degrees, and ranks, were kill'd: so don The Duke to Paris march'd, and seiz'd upon The King himself, and filled with abuses The places set apart for pious uses. Roan taken by him, was for three dayes sack'd, The Citizens thereof disliv'd, and rack'd. Then menacing to ruinate Orleance, A young man shot him, to deliver France From his great violence. Peace was procur'd; A happy peace, but it not long endur'd: The Popish party banishing all pity. Kill'd all, spar'd none in the Lutetian City. At Amiens, the slain were thrown in brooks; All Bibles burned and Divin'cy books.

At Meaux, Sens, Mans, they drag'd some on the stones, And dash'd against the walls the little ones: Some had their houses level'd with the ground, Hundreds were massacred, starv'd, hang'd, or drown'd. Many were hal'd to Mass; and some re-wedded, Babes re-baptized; others were beheaded. At Bar they rip'd up many brests, and draw'd Mens hearts thereout, & with their teeth them gnaw'd. VVhen Malicorn, Montargis town had got, He slew the towns-men, and with Cannon-shot Threatned the Lady Rhene to batter down Her Castle, if she did the Christians own, Not give them up to him: the Princess stout, Bravely reply'd: Look what you go about, I charge you, for there's no man in this Realm (The King excepted) that can overwhelm My pinace, with the waves of a command: And if your battery go on, I'll stand I'th' breach, to try, whether or no you dare Thus kill the daughter of a King: I fear Your threats? not I: I want nor means, nor power T'avenge me on your boldness, and devour Your murtherous heart, and utterly deface The infants of your most rebellious race. When Malicorn thus heard the Lady say, He pulled in his horn, and sneak'd away. At Angers into rivers some were thrown, Some executed: a gilt Bible shown Upon an halbard was, and this they sang, Behold how well the Hug'nots truth doth hang; Hark what the everlasting God, will tell; Behold the truth of all the devils in hell: They throw't i'th' river, and renew'd their sound, Behold! the truth of all the devils drown'd.

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At Ablevilly, Angers, Foix, Auxerre, At Troys, Crant, Nevers, Chastillon, and Bar In Bloys, Tholouse, as also Careasson, Many outragious villainies were don. At Sens, and Tours, hundreds were put to slaughter; Some hang'd up by one foot, and in the water Their heads and breasts: the bowels are pluck'd out Their rip'd-up bellies, and are thrown about The mi'ry streets: they torture ev'ry joynt, And stick their hearts upon their daggers point. A Counsellor was hang'd, at the request Of his own father, (O unnat'ral brest!) By the Parisian Senators decree,* 1.31 The bells are sounded, and the Christians be Destroy'd in ev'ry place, all their estates Seiz'd on by Catholicks and runagates. In Ligneul some they hang'd. The village Aze They set one fire, and joy'd to see it blaze. Augustine Marlorate was hang'd at Rhone, Where streetswith slaughter'd carkasses were strown. In Gaillac, from a steep precipice Many were flung down headlong, in a trice Caught break-neck falls. In Souraze some were cram'd VVith lime, and down their throats had Urine ram'd. One Peter Roch, they buried alive VVithin his self-made grave. They did deprive Many of all they had, others were crown'd VVith thorns; and others in a well were drown'd. One Captain Durre, a godly widdow told Ualess she would produce her hid-up gold, He'd rost her quick, and after throw her down From the sublimest tower in the town. VVell (said she) though I fall, yet shall I stand Supported by the Lord Almightie's hand.

He made her drink his piss; then in her face Flung the remainder, and withall the glass. He claps her up, more torments to abide: Her friends redeem'd her, but she shortly did. The Prot'stants of Valougne. their dear lives lost, And souldiers in their houses rul'd the rost. In Mascon, Bonnet Bor, a rare Divine, Scoff'd, beaten, drown'd, Lamp-like in heav'n doth shine. Monsieur Valongues a Minister, they kill'd, And spurn'd his naked corps: the Mass-Priests fill'd His mouth and wounds with Bible-leaves, and said, Preach thou Gods truth, now invocate his aid. Monluc at Reim brain'd sucking infants, then The mothers; hang'd above five hundred men. They sprinkled salt, upon the bleeding wounds Of one poor mangled man. Monluc confounds The Protestants in fight, the prisoners He hangs, especially the Ministers. Captain Lamoths, he stabs; that will not do, He thrusts him with a rapier, through, and thro: And his blasphemous mouth these words lets fly. Villain, thou in despite of God shalt die. He prov'd a lyar, though the man endur'd Such mortal wounds, yet was he strangely cur'd. In Limoux, Grenoble, Beann, Cisteron, Normay, and Aurange, many undergon Hard usage, Ah! what hearts? what tongues? what Quills? Can think, can speak, can write, those worst of ills? Females were ravish'd: others drown'd: some kill'd, Their houses with unruly souldiers fill'd. Hundreds of women, nay, and children too Like harmless sheep unto the slaughter go. Those to blaspheme that would not be constrain'd. Were with the butt-end of a musket brain'd,

Or hewn as small as herbs unto the pot; Others rhrown out at windowes, others shot. A fair young woman, after much disgrace, Was ravished before her husbands sace; Then forc'd to hold a rapier wherewith One made her, her own husband kill. A Smith Because he would not give the devil his soul, B'ing on his anvil laid, they beat his poul In pieces with great hammers; some were crush'd To death with weights, others were har quebush'd. They dash'd brest-sucking babes against the walls, And slew the crazy in the hospitals. No sex, nor age, nor quality they let Go free: all, all was fish that came to net.

The Massacre at PARIS, Anno 1571.

WHen the third Civil War in France was ended, A Massacre at Paris was intended, And put in execution: first of all They set upon and slew the Admiral; The watch-word was, the tolling of a bell, Which rang by break aday: the cut-throats fell On the attendants of the King of Navar, And Prince of Conde; not the least of favour Was shew'd to any: they knock'd down and brain'd Ten thousand persons: Sein'c swift streams were With the effused blood; the streets were pav'd (stain'd With mangled bodies, not a man was sav'd

These blood-hounds met with; Pistols, Poiniards, Knives, Curtlaces, Pikes, did make away with lives. The Muskets bouncings! Oh the horrid tones Of howling murth'rers mix'd with dying grones! The Lords and Gentlemen were murthered Some on their houses roofs, and some in bed. In France (this persecution so encreas'd) Were thirty thousand Massacred at leaft. But let's to some particulars descend; One Monsieur de la Place was brought t'his end. And Peter Ramus with his life did part, (The Kings Professor in that subtile Art) Thrown from the chamber window, trail'd about The streets, and whip'd, his bowels falling out. A villain snatched up a little child, Who toy'd, and played with his beard, and smil'd, But he (hard hearted wretch!) not mov'd at all, Drew out his sword, and stabbed it withall, And cast it all gore-blood into the river: This gnaws an infant's heart, and he the liver. Such protestants, as did through fear revolt, Must in the fore-front, give the first assault, Or else be kill'd themselves. Some had their grease Try'd out and sold. They us'd such blasphemies: Where's now your God? are Psalmes and Prayers come To this? sure he is either deaf, or dumb. Let him come save you, if he can: they cry'd, Kill, kill them all, and let's the spoil divide. What fearfull shrikes, and outeries were there then Caus'd by these Devils in the shapes of men? What breaking up of doors? what noise of guns At Orleance was there heard? confusion runs In ev'ry street; what trampling of War-Horses? Rumbling of Carts, that bore away dead coarses!

The Papists, in this massacre confess'd, That they slew eighteen thousand at the least. Some of them boasted in the streets aloud, Th'nad dy'd their doublets in the Hug'nots blood. At Tholouse, they the call'd-out pris'ners slay, Not suffring them to speake, much less to pray. VVhen the Parisian massacre was known, At Bourdeaux the like cruelty was shown. How sad was it to see poor Protestants VVander now here, now there, and none their wants Supply! Alas unparalelled woes! Rejected by their friends, destroy'd by foes!

SECT. XXIX.

The siege of Sancerte, Anno Christi, 1573.

THe Chastrian Lord besieging Sancerre town, His thundring cannons play'd, and batter'd down Her stony walls; the shiver'd timber flew Continually about, yet none it slew. Some had their hats, breeches, and coats through shot, Themselves not hurt nor prejudic'd one jot. The siege endured long; at last, through want, Horse-flesh was turn'd to food; which growing scant, The Twons-men fed on dogs, cats, rats, mice, moles, Hides, parchments, halters, Lantera-horns, roots, coals, Their bread was made of straw-meal; they did boyl Them pottage of old Oyntments, grease and Oyl. And when these fail'd, they pounded nutshels, slates, Eat mens dung fry'd: ho! these were precious cates!

A lab'rer and his wife were put to th'slaughter, For feeding on their famin-starved daughter. Some little corn by stoldred brought to town, Each pound was valued at half a crown. The sword did but eighty four persons slay. The famine half a thousand swept away. Many chose rather to resign their breath At the swords point, then famish'd be to death. The parents look'd upon with grief of heart Their children, but could no relief impart. A boy of five years old, neer spent with hunger, Did run about the streets; but when no longer His feeble feet could bear him, down he fell Before his parents sight: 'tis sad to tell The horrour of their souls, and how their eyes Ran down, when they did feel his with'red thighs. Then said the child, Father and mother dear, What mean you so to weep? for Gods sake spare Those needless drops, and do'nt my cause bemone; I ask no bread, as knowing you have none: But since it is Gods will, that I should rest By such a death as this; his name be blest: Have not I (mother) in my Bible read, Of Laz'rus wants? and that was all he said. At last God flirr'd up the Polonians, To free the poor distress'd Sancerrians. They with their arms and goods might go away; And such as would, might without trouble stay.

The siege of Rochel Anno 1573.

ROchel besieg'd, the towns-men salli'd out, And often put the en'my to the rout. In one months space the soe lay'd on so hot, That more then thirteen thousand Cannon-shot Discharg'd against the Rochellers, which held Out siege fo long, till famine them compell'd T'unlawful meats, all their provision spent: But O admired Providence! God sent Them fishes, and in such abundant store, The like was never seen nor heard before: As soon as the edict for Peace came out, (Which Legates sent from Poland brought about) They went away, and ne're return'd again. Divers great Lords and Gentlemen were slain During this siege: commanders full sixscore, And twenty thousand souldiers or more, That did from bloody Massacres retire, Receiv'd at Rochel their deserved hire. King Charles himself fall'n sick,* 1.32 t'his mother cry'd, Madam I pray revenge my foes, then dy'd. Rochel expecting help in time of need From England,* 1.33 England prov'd a staff of reed Which ran into their hands, whilst they depended Too much thereon; the City (ill befriended) B'ing close besieged by the King of France, And his adherents, the inhabitants Shrewdly put to't, for want of better meat, Did horses, dogs, cats, rats, and leather eat. The poorer sort of people wanting bread, Upon the buttocks of the dead did feed.

Young maids did look with such a wrinkled brow, As though they had a hundred years ran through. And all the English, when the Freach had took The City, like Anatomies did look. How sad was it to see, their hollow eyes And meagre cheeks, lank bellies, withr'ed thighs? * 1.34 A strike of wheat at twenty at pounds was rated; A pound of bread, worth one pound estimated; A quarter of a sheep did six pounds utter; And thirty shillings bought a pound of butter; For one poor egge, eight shillings was layd down; An ounce of sugar, yielded half a crown. A dry'd fish given for a piece in gold; A pint of French-Wine, for as much was sold; A pound of grapes, thrice twelve pence; milk but fil∣ling A pint-pot full, valu'd at thirty shilling, &c.

SECT. XXX

The Persecution of the Church of Christ in the Valtoline, Anno Christi 1620.

THe bloody Papists, in the Valtoline Rising in arms, did furiously combine To th'extirpation of the Christian train; Drown'd some in Alba, others they did brain: Shot some, and strangled others; some they bee With knotty clubs; and many that they met They inhumanely murth'red; some they drew Out of their naked beds, and did imbrew Their hands in their effused gore; they slit The mouths of some up to their ears; and hit

Others with the Strappado; some were hack'd To pieces; others slash'd; and others rack'd. One was compell'd to ride upon an Asse,* 1.35 His face turn'd to the tail, and he to pass The market-place, holding in's hand the tail As'cwere a bridle; some when food did fail Were famished; others were ston'd, or drown'd; Some had their very bones, to powder ground. Thus having made a quick dispatch at Tel, These profane wretches, marched thence, and fell Upon the Protestants at Church elsewhere, Kill'd old and young, and shew'd no mercy there, To Lords, nor Gentlemen: to death they shot The Ministers: Ladies and Children, got Into the Bell-free for security: The place is fired; and by fire, they die. The Popish party under a pretence Of standing for the Protestants defence At Sondres (yet for all they kept a pother) They one destroyed now, and then another; As if it had bin done by accident, Concealing their malevolous intent: Then did they fall to plunder, and imbrew, Their hands in blood, all those they met they slew. There was a Noble Lady which refus'd The Romish faith: to whom such words they us'd; Madam, out of the tender love you bear To your young infant, in your arms, give ear To us, or else you shall be kill'd together. But she undauated, thus; I came not hither To abnegate my faith, nor left I all I had behind in Italy, to fall From my first principles; yea, I will rather Suffer a thousand death; my heavenly father

Spar'd not his son, but up to death him gave, Me, and such sinners as I am to save; How shall I then regard this babe of mine? O foe, said she, into the hands of thine I give my little child: God which takes care For the wing'd Cit'zens of the liquid Air, Is much more able to save this poor child, Though you should leave it on these mountains wild. Unlacing then her gown, she bar'd her brest, And said, Here is the body; you may feast Your swords therewith: to kill it you have power, My sould is Gods, it can you not devour. They slay the mother, and the infant spare, Committing it t'a Popish nurses care. Many that did refuse to go to Mass, Were dragged to the mountaines tops (Alas!) And thrown thence headlong down: for want of food Others were famish'd; into Adda's flood Some flung from bridges; and with corpses dead The woods and mountains ev'rywhere were spread. A Noble Virgin, through the streets was led Disgracefully; they put upon her head A paper-mitre, buffeted her cheeks, And so besmear'd her face with dirt, (that leeks Might grow thereon) then was she bid to call Upon the Saints; she smiling said, All, all My hope, my trust, and my salvation Is in my Saviour Jesus Christ alone. As for the Virgin Mary, 'tis confest She is above all other women blest; Yet is she not omniscient, and therefore Knowes not what we request, what we implore: Yea she her self her own son's merits needed, And had bin damn'd, had he not interceeded.

Christ hath despis'd rhe cross, endur'd the shame, And so will I, thrice blessed be his name, His holy name; with that, these villains drew her Into the fields, and barbarously slew her. Then came a letter from a Governour, That these blood-suckers should with all their power Destroy both in the country and in City All that were Lutherans, without all pity. Whereat destroying all at Tyrane, Tell, Bruse, Sondres, and Malenco, they more fell Then Hyrcan Tygres, fell on Birbenno, Caspano, Trahen, slaying high and low. They kill'd a man, and's wife. A cradled child Fair and well-favour'd, in their faces smil'd; They took her by the heels (not mov'd at all) And dashed out her brains against the wall. At Bruse, a very aged Matron was Sollicited by them, to go to Mass, And have respect unto her age, not die; To whom she answer'd; God forbid that I Who have one foot already in the grave, Should now forsake my Lord, my Christ, who gave Me to be constant in his truth profest, And upon sublunary creatures rest. Shall mens traditions, or Gods holy word Take place? so said, they slew her with the sword.

SECT. XXXI.

The Persecutions of the Church in Scotland, which began, Anno Christi 1527.

ONE Mr. Patrick Hamilton by name, Sprung from an honourable stock, became An able Minister; his holy zeal Did the despised Mysteries reveal To hood-wink'd souls, so long untill at last Th'enraged Bishops him in prison cast: And after condemnation, he was brought To execution; his cap, gown, and coat, He gave t'his servant, and exhorted him To venture all for Christ; yea, life and lim. Bound to the stake, he cry'd, For Christ his merit, O Lord be pleased to receive my spirit: How long shall clouds of darkness overwhelm? Great God! how long shall foes oppress this realm? A Fryar then; Ʋnto our Lady pray; Salve Regina, say, &c. Away, away, Satanick Imps; God hears me in the flame. His soul went up to heav'n to praise Gods Name. Straton converted, said, O Lord I have Bin wicked, and deserv'd thy wrath, yet save; O let not me, for fear of corp'ral pain, Or death, deny thee, or thy truth again: They his and Mr. Norman's person bring, And burn them in the presence of the King. Such words the Bishop of Dunkelden us'd To one Dean Porret (whom the Fry'rs accus'd:)

My joy, Dean Thomas, I do love thee well, And therefore take the liberty to tell Thee of thy faults; I am inform'd you do Preach the Epistle, nay the Gospel too, Each Sunday to your people; and refuse To take from them (as a reward) your dues: Which prejudicial to the Church-men is. My joy, Dean Thomas, I advise you this: Take tythes, or else it is too much to preach But once a week: for if thou gratis teach, May not the people think that we likewise Should do the same? Tom, be not so precise; It is enough for you when you have sound A good Epistle and Gospel, to expound The liberty of holy Church express'd Therein, and 'tis no matter for the rest. Thomas reply'd: My Lord, if I abstain From tythes, will my parishioners complain? I know they will not: and whereas you say, It is too much to preach each Sabbath-day, I think it is too little, for my part; And from the very bottom of my heart Wish, that your Lordship would be pleas'd to take Such pains as that. Nay, nay, Dean Thomas, spake The Bishop then, no orders do us reach. Whereas, said Thomas, you do bid me preach When a good Chapter I do light upon; I've read them over all, and finde not one That's bad amongst them; shew me where they lie, And at your shewing I will pass them by. I bless God, said the Bishop, I ne're knew What was the Testament nor old nor new: And I will not know any thing at all, Saving my Portvise, and Pontifical.

Go, go your wayes, and cease so much to prate, Lest you repent you, when it is too late. I trust, said Thomas, that my cause is clear In Gods eyes; therefore, what need I to fear? And so he went his way. But when time's glass Had run a little more, he burned was. Though bloody clouds were rais'd, Religion's raies Shone forth in Scotland, in those worst of daies: Partly by reading (comfort flowing thence) And partly by fraternal conference; Which so enrag'd the Papists, that they came And burnt four noted persons in one flame; One Jerom Russet, that profest the truth, And Alexander Kennedy, a youth, Were brought to Judgement: Kennedy's heart panted For fear at first, and would have fain recanted. But when no hopes was left, God's Spirit reviv'd His drooping soul; yea inward comforts striv'd To shew themselves, both in his face and tongue: Then falling on his knees, these words out sprung: Great God! What love hast thou to all express'd, And unto me vile wretch, above the rest! O who hath tasted of thy clemency In such a high degree (O Lord) as I! For just now when I would deny thy power, And Jesus Christ, thy Son, my Saviour, T'have plung'd my self all over head and ears In everlasting flames, (unquench'd with tears) Thy right hand hath not suffer'd me to dwell With the black subjects of the Prince of hell: And I, that was of late with fear opprest, Enjoy by thee a joy-enamel'd brest. I fear not death, do with me as you please; I praise God I am ready, death's an ease.

Then railed they on him, and Jerom, who Said also unto them, Miscal us, do; This is your hour and power to command; Yee sit as Judges, we as guilty stand: But know, a day will come shall clear our blame, And yee (curs'd yee) to your eternal shame Shall see your blindness. Go on forward still, Till you the Ephah of your sins up fill. No sooner were they both condemn'd to die, But Jerom comforted young Kennedy: Brother (said he) fear not, he that indwels Our souls, him that is in the world excels; The pain we here indure is light and short, But we shall have unfading glory for't. O strive we then (though many rubs annoy) To enter in unto our Masters joy: And, with our Saviour, pass the narrow road Which few shall finde; the way to hell is broad. We die for Christ, and Christ hath death subdu'd, Death cannot hurt us: hence me may conclude We are the members; and if Christ our head Be risen, can the members long lie dead? Thus death, and Satan, under-foot they trod, And in the flame, breath'd up their souls to God. At Edenburgh the cruel Card'nal Beton Hang'd some,* 1.36 upon suspicion they had eaten Goose on a Friday; and above the rest, A woman with her suckling at her brest, He drown'd for being scrupulous and wary Of making prayers to the Virgin Mary. He sent into exile some Christian brothers; And at St. Johnstons he imprison'd others. Mr. George Wischard, a Divine, whose worth Wan him much admiration in the North,

Having drunk deeply of afflictions cup. Cheerfully in the flames surrendred up His soul unto its donour.* 1.37 God fulfill'd His prophesy, the Cardinal was kill'd. One Henry Wallace,* 1.38 as an Heretick Condemned to be burnt, was burned quick. One Henry Forr'st,* 1.39 betrayed by a fryar, Was burnt, and had the end of his desire. Said Ol'phant to one Walter Mill, who pray'd, Rise up Sir Walter. Prayers don, he said, My name is Walter if you call me right, I have bin too too long a Popish Knight. Ben't there sev'n Sacraments? Give me but two Said he, and all the rest I leave to you. Wilt thou recant? he answer'd, I am corn, Not chaff, and will not be i'th' truth out-born: Then go to th'stake. Said he, I may not kill My self, but put me in, and bear I will; This is my resolution. Having made His pray'r to God, he to the people said, Although it be confess'd, that I have bin A friend to Satan, and a slave to sin, Yet 'tis not that, that doth my suff'rings cause, I suffer for observing God's just Laws. And now God out of his abundant grace Doth honour me so farr, as (in this place) To make me seal (what others not withstood,) His truth's profession with my dearest blood. Dear friends as you'd escape eternal doom, And live still happy in the life to come, Let not Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Priors, Seduce you any more, for they are Lyars. Trust God alone, O alwayes make his power Your rock, your bulwark of defence, your tower.

So slep'd he in the Lord: and was the last In Scotland that the fi'ry tryal past.

SECT. XXXII.

The Persecution of the Church in Ireland, Anno Christi 1642.

THe factious Archbishops, Abbots, Pryors, False Jesuites, Romish Priests, and knavish Friars, Stirr'd up rebellion by their instigation, Against the English in the Irish Nation. And when they thought their malice had invented Such thriving plots, as could not be prevented, They in their publick prayers recommended The good success of their designes, which tended, To the advancement of the Cath'lick cause, And told the people 'twas no time to pause. Their nation over-run with hereticks; Call'd Protestants sworn foes to Catholicks; Who were not to be suffered alive Amongst them; and for any to deprive Them of their breaths, the crime was not more great, Then to destroy a dog: to give them meat. Or yield to them relief at any time, 'Twas mortal, O unpardonable crime! Romes Doctrine they pretended to suppress, And root out those that did the same profess; They Laws would make, they thought, should under- All Pop'ry, after Englands good example. (trample Observe we how their words and deeds did vary, Said one thing, but did act the quite contrary.

And now they fall to murthr'ous blows; and glory, 'T will save them from the pains of Purgatory: None that spake English the least mercy found; The English language was a loathed sound: All are resolv'd to scowre the Irish borders From these supposed Authors of disorders. Poor Protestants! some were to exile packt; Some kill'd; 'twas thought a meritorious act To slay those Devils in the shapes of men, (For so they called them;) not one of ten Escap'd their clutches: what a deal of good, Said they, it does us, thus to bath in blood! When these injurious wretches are destroy'd In Ireland, and their habitation voyd, We'll then for England; have at England then, We will not leave alive one English man. Put case we should be of our lives bereaven. Immediately our souls would fly to heaven. Why should such scoundrels breath? to work let's fall, And take away their lives, estates, and all. Strip, strip, man, woman, child, base rougues and whores, Leave not a rag on, turn them out of doors. So now they shelter them; but woods and caves Sha'n't be their dwellings, but shall be their graves, Whom wee'l—But many by the high-wayes side, For want of sustenance fell down, and dy'd: And many thousands that for succour fled To towns, by that time they came there, were dead, To tell their horrid Massacres, would make The ear to tingle, and the heart to ake. In Armag••, and Tyrone, this barb'rous rage Spar'd neither rich nor poor, nor sex, nor age: And elsewhere many thousands did expire By sword, by water, famine, or by fire.

Some had their guts rip'd out, some drag'd thro bogs; Young children thrown to be devour'd by dogs. If any chanc'd to beg but leave to pray, And kneeled down, they lost their heads straight∣way Some in dark dungeons lie; others half slain, Earnestly beg'd to be rid out of pain. They cover'd some alive with dirt, and stones, And laugh'd, to hear their lamentable grones. Some were from bridges, into rivers flung; Others, on tenter-hooks by the chin hung: They hang'd up some by th'arms, with their swords trying How long an English-man would be a dying. Young infants rip'd out of their mothers womb, Were given to the hogs, for to entomb. Children were forc'd to kill fathers, and mothers; Parents, their children; and brothers, brothers; Wives their own husbands; husbands their own wives: And they themselves in fine must lose their lives. No mercy's shown, man, woman, no nor child; The dead's dig'd up, th'alive in cauldrons boil'd. Some had their hands cut off, and eyes pluck'd out; Many were left alive, their guts about Their very heels: and of some's grease and fat Candles were made; while others rosted at Slack fires: Nay, boys and women were employ'd To perpetrate such deeds, and therein joy'd. The Rebels, in the country Portendown, Did many thousands in the river drown. At Lisgool, Tullah, Lissenskeah, and Cumber, (All Castles) a considerable number Were brought unto untimely ends. Man, woman, And child was kill'd at Killmore and Killoman. An ancient dame, which towards Dublin went, Was strip'd in one day seven times, and sent

To seek her God, and to her God complain, And bid him if he could, cloath her again: All mercy was exil'd; these murth'rous Cains: Brain'd some; stab'd others with their swords, forks, skeins. Thousands of Protestants in snowy weather Turn'd out stark naked, perish'd all together, Through cold and hunger; many that were sick, Were drag'd out of their beds, and hang'd up quick. One Gcodwife Lin, they hanged in the Air, And then the daughter by the mothers hair. Upon a day a Cittadel they fir'd Over the Christians heads therein retir'd; And thus express'd their joy: Behold, how high The flames mount, O how sweetly do they fry! A Divines mouth up to the ears they slit; So don, they put a Bibles leaf to it, And bid him preach, and teach some pretty stuff, For now he had a mouth was wide enough. A naked woman, her bare skin to hide, A wisp of straw about her middle tide; They fit'd it, boasting how it did enhance Their spirits to see the English jade so dance: They stab'd Jane Addis, and her young child stuck T'her brest, and said, Suck English bastard, suck. If any hid themselves in cellars, caves, They all were murther'd by these hell-sent slaves; Who made their boast, they pleas'd the devil well In sending him so many souls to hell. Against God, and his holy word, likewise, They belch'd out execrable blasphemies. Bibles they burnt, and said, They burnt hell-fire; Cut some, and soaked others in the mire, Then dash'd them on the owners faces; some They stamp'd on, saying, Hence all mischiefs come;

A plague upon them all; in a short time, We hope to see none in our Irish clime. They told th' Apostates, that they thought it good To kill them while they were in a good mood. Anne Nicholson said boldly she'd not turne; And rather then she would her Bible burn, As they would have her, she the death would die; And did, as it fell out: for by and by She and her mate was stabb'd; but he that acted The vill'ny, grew immediately distracted. At Glascow fisty English men and Scots They made recant, and then cut all their throats. In Mayo, and in Tiperary too, Both Counties, not a few did undergo All sorts of cruel deaths; these bloody ones Did slash, hew, hack, and pellet them with stones. They forc'd some in the Sea (swoln big with waves) To take possession of those watry graves. In Sligo, forty Protestants were strip'd, And lock'd up in a cellar; then there slip'd A butcher in (appointed so to do) And with an axe cleav'd all their heads in two. Into the Jail belonging to this town, Poor Protestants were sent, and there knock'd down. About Dungannon, Tyrone, Charlemount, Hundreds were slain upon the same account. An Irish Quean kill'd forty five: Mac Crew No less then thirty in one morning slew. There were above twelve thousand knock'd at head In the high-wayes, as towards Down they fled. These rogues a Scotch-mans belly did divide, And having one end of his smal guts tide Unto a tree, they forc'd him round about The same so long, till they were all drawn out:

Said they, We'll try which is the longest size, A dogs guts, or a Scotchmans; O glad eyes! In Antrum fell nine hundred fifty four In one morn, afterwards twelve hundred more. Sir Phileme O Neal boasted he had kill'd Above six hundred at Gravagh; and fill'd Whole houses with the slain; brain'd old and young Within the Baronry of Monterlong. In Ʋlster Province, by all sorts of deaths, One hundred fifty thousand lost their breaths. One man for saying he'd believe the Pope No sooner then the devil, stretch'd a rope. In Munster, many eminent Divines They hanged up. Alas! what woful signs Poor children made for bread; but they must fast Or feed on grass, and then be brain'd at last. Dear hearts! in what inextricable woes Are they involv'd? inexorable foes On ev'ry side to bring them to their ends; 'Tis sad to hear wives, children, servants, friends, Send to the ayr their stormy sighs, and grones, Their shrieks, their cries and lamentable mones! Alas! what tongue, is able to relate The fears, and cares, of their afflicted state? O was it, was it not enough almost To break a Christians heart, to hear them boast Of knockings down? (said one) my arm's so sore I cannot lift it up, to brain one more. Another bragg'd, that he abroad had bin, And of the English rogues had kill'd sixteen: Others so many kill'd, that they believ'd, That of the very grease and fat which cleav'd Upon their swords, a man might undertake An Irish candle (if he list) to make,

The English are (said they) fit meat for dogs, Their children bastards, drown them in the dogs; The daye's our own, we'll wound their beasts there∣fore; Oh 'tis a gallant thing to hear them rore! Thus have we had a tast of what befel The Protestants: now they that did rebel Have ever since by the just hand of God Bin soundly scourg'd with his severer rod; He so emasculates their spirits in fight, That handfuls put innum'rous foes to flight; Thousands of them have perish'd by the sword;* 1.40 As many, if not more, the plague devour'd: The Lord still fights for his; and will, no doubt, Utterly root up that rebellious rour.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Anno 1198
• * 1.2

  Anno 1260.
• * 1.3

  Anno 1550.
• * 1.4

  Anno 1560.
• † 1.5

  Anaba∣ptists first Rising.
• * 1.6

  Anno 1543.
• * 1.7

  Anno 1555
• * 1.8

  An. Chr. 1631.
• * 1.9

  An. Chr. 1634.
• * 1.10

  Anno 1618.
• * 1.11

  Anno 1619.
• * 1.12

  An. Chr. 1619.
• * 1.13

  An. Chr. 1621.
• * 1.14

  An. Chr. 1622.
• * 1.15

  An. Chr. 1624.
• * 1.16

  An. Chr. 1625.
• * 1.17

  An. Chr. 1631.
• * 1.18

  Anno A 1633.
• * 1.19

  An. Chr. 1635.
• * 1.20

  Anno 1544.
• * 1.21

  Anno 1545.
• * 1.22

  Anno 1546.
• * 1.23

  1547.
• * 1.24

  Anno 1548.
• * 1.25

  Anno 1549.
• * 1.26

  Anno 1551.
• * 1.27

  An. Chr. 1553.
• * 1.28

  An. Chr. 1554.
• * 1.29

  Anno 1557.
• * 1.30

  An. Chr. 1558.
• * 1.31

  Anno 1562.
• * 1.32

  Anno 1574.
• * 1.33

  Anno 1628.
• * 1.34

  The prices of things.
• * 1.35

  Dominico ••ert••.
• * 1.36

  Anno 1543.
• * 1.37

  Anno 1546.
• * 1.38

  Anno 1550.
• * 1.39

  Anno 1553.
• * 1.40

  Anno 1650.