Versatile ingenium, The Wittie companion, or Jests of all sorts. From citie and countrie, court and universitie. : With an account of the life of the laughing philosopher Democritus of Abder̀a. / By Democritus Junior.

The Roman-Catholic Ballad; or an Invitation to Poperie, upon considerable grounds and reasons.

To the tune of 88.

SInce Popery of late is so much in debate And great striveings have been to restore it, I cannot forbear, openly to declare That the Ballad-makers are for it.

We'l dispute no more, these Heretical men Have expos'd our books unto laughter, So that many do say, it will be our best way To sing for the cause hereafter.

O the Catholic cause! now assist me my muse How earnestly do I desire thee! Neither will I pray, to S. Bridget to day But only to thee to inspire me.

Whence should purity come but from Ca∣tholic Rome? I wonder much at their folly; For St. Peter was there, And left an old chair Enough to make all the world holy.

For this sacred old wood, is so excellent good, If Tradition may be believed, That whoever sits there,, needs never more fear The danger of being decieved. If the devil him self should (God bless us) get up,

Though his nature we know be evil, Yet whilst he sate there, as divers will swear, He would be an infallible devil:

Now who sits in this Seat but our Father the Pope? So that here's a plain Demonstration, As clear as noon-day, we are in the right way, And all others are doom'd to damnation. If this will not suffice, yet to open your eyes, Which are blinded with bad education, We have Arguments plentie, and miracles twentie, Enough to convince a whole nation:

If you give but good heed, you shall see the Host bleed, And if any thing can perswade ye, An Image shall speak, or at last it shall squeak In the honour of our Lady:

You shall see without doubt, the devil cast out, As of old by Erra Pater. He shall skip about and tear, like a dance∣ing bear, When he feels the Holy water.

If yet doubtfull ye are, we have Reliques most rare, We can shew you the sacred manger Several loads of the cross, as good as e're was To preserve your souls from danger.

Should I tell you of all 'twould move a stone wall,

But I spare you a little for pittie, That each one may prepare,, to rub up his ear For the second part of my ditty.

The second part to the same Tune.

NOW listen again to those things that remain, They are matters of weight I assure you; And the first thing I say,, throw your Bibles away, 'Tis impossible else for to cure you.

O that pestilent book! never on it more look I wish I could speak it out louder, It has don more men harm,, I dare boldly af∣firm, Than th' invention of guns and powder;

As for matters of faith believe what the church sayth, But for Scripture leave that to the learned, For these are edg tooles,, and you lay men are fools, If you touch them you are sure to be harmed:

But pray what is it for you make all this stir? You must read, you must hear and be learned; If you'l be on our part,, we will teach you an Art, That you need not be so much concerned.

Be the Churches good son, and your work is half don,

After that you may do your own pleasure. If your Beads you can tell, and say your Ave Mary well, Neuer doubt of the heavenly treasure.

For the Pope keeps the keys; and can do what he please, And without all peradventure, If you can not at the fore, yet at the back dore of Indulgence you may enter:

But first by the way, you must make a short stay, At a place call'd Purgatory, Which the learned us tell,, in the buildings of Hell, Is about the midlemost story.

'Tis a monstrous hot place, and a mark of disgrace, In the torment on't long to endure, None are kept there but fools,, and poor pitty∣full souls, Who can no ready money procure:

For a handsome round summ, you may quickly be gon, For the church has wisely ordein'd, That they who build crosses,, and pay well for Masses, Should not there be too long detein'd:

So that 'tis a plain case as the nose on ones face We are in the surest condition, And none but mere fools,, and some nigardly owls,

Need fall into utter perdition

What aileth ye then ye great and rich men, That ye will not hearken to reason, Since as long as ye have pence, ye need scruple no offence, Be it murder, adulterie, treason.

And ye sweet natur'd Women, who hold all things common, My addresses to you are most hearty, And to give ye your due, ye are to us most tru And I hope we shall gain the whole party;

If you happen to fall, your Penance shall be small, And altho ye cannot forego it, We have for ye a cure, if this ye be sure, To confess before ye go to it:

There is one reason yet, which I cannot omit To those who affect the French nation, Hereby we advance▪, the Religion of France, The Religion that's only in fashion.

If these reasons prevale, (as how can they fail) To have Popery entertain'd, Ye cannot conceive, and will hardly believe What Benefits hence may be gain'd;

For the Pope shall us bless, (that's no small happiness) And again we shall see restored The Italian trade, which formerly made This land to be so much adored: O the Pictures and rings, the Beads and fine things,

The good words as sweet as honey, All this and much more, shall be brought to our door, For a little dull English money.

Then shall traffic and love, and what ever can move, Be restor'd again to our Brittain, And learning so common, that every old wo∣man, Shall say her Prayers in Latin.

Then the church shall bear sway, and the state shall obey, Which is now look'd upon as a wonder, And the proudest of Kings, and all temporal things Shall submit and truckle under;

And the Parliament too, who have taken us to do And have handled us with so much terror, May chance on that score, ('tis no time to say more) They may chance to ackowledg their error.

If any man yet shall have so little wit, As still to be refractory, I swear by the mass, he is a mere Ass, And so there's an end of a story.