Popish fables, Protestant truths, and plot-smotherers displayed in a satyrical dialogue between Fly-blow, a Tory, Swift-heel, a Tantivy, Flash, a Brumegeum, See-well, a Whigg, Cross-truth, a papist.

Popish Fables, Protestant Truths, AND Plot-Smotherers Displayed, &c.

Fly-blow.

THese Whiggs are plaguy things, Mr. Swift-heel, they will defend Whiggism, or Re∣formation, (which you are pleased to call it) in spight of all our teeths, notwithstanding our manifold endeavours to the contrary. A man can't blow his Nose upon the Protestant Religion, nor wipe his A— with a Parliament, nor walk about the streets with the Re∣ligion in fashion, but he is presently a down-right main∣tainer of Popery: nay, if he concerns himself with no Re∣ligion at all, but walks about with an empty Brain and Conscience, then he is a Tory, a Brumegeum, a Tantivie, a what not? Bless us! what a vicious Age do we live in?

Swift-heel.

That is not all, Sir, neither; if we sute but our disposition to sail fairly and evenly before the wind with power, and wear our Religion as we do our Cloaths, till the Mode alters, then these Tell-truths do sometimes catch us before we are down; but we'll hocus pocus 'um, and make 'em know the difference between a Fiddle and a Prayer-book.

Hark ye though, Mr. Fly-blow, by the by, let me ask you one civil question, What Religion may you be of? Are you a true Orthodox Catholick?

Fly-blow.

Yes, and have taken my Degrees too.

Swift-heel.

Where, at St. Omers?

Fly-blow.

No, no, I'm a Protestant at large, by some

call'd a Tory; I can give my self a Dispensation to Swear, Lye, Whore, Game, and be Drunk, without the Popes help; though upon occasion I am the Popes humble ser∣vant too.

Now pray don't be angry with me, if I ask you the same civil question you ask'd me; Have you got any Religion?

Swift heel.

Yes, yes, I am a fashionable Race-Protestant, that is to say, a Tantivy; I can run, I can ride at no rate, I can play at Leap-frog over Protestant Join'd-stools, I can dance a Roman Antick, and can slide over the Ice of Ca∣tholick Queries with a Bon Grace. But to explain it bet∣ter, The Whiggs call all this riding Post to the Devil, and only because I am so well accomplished as to be able to write Books on behalf of the Great Turk, and the Pope,* 1.1 and to make Proposals for as good a Re∣union with one as the other. Now I'le prove you by Logick, that all are Whiggs that are in opposition to the Church of Rome: For example,

The Church of Rome is the Truly Ancient Christian Church; all those that oppose it, are enemies to the True Christian Church: Therefore all those that oppose the Church of Rome, are Whiggs.

Fly-blow.

A solid Truth, a plain Demonstration. But pray tell me sincerely what a Whigg is?

Swift-heel.

That's according as we divide, subdivide, and re-subdivide it; for there are several species of them: You must know that all Protestant Dissenters we call in the first place Whiggs. Secondly, those that will not allow of a Protestant Plot are all Whiggs too: and so we (according to Ratiocination) have Church-Whiggs. And again, all those that won't believe there never was a Popish Plot, and that Sir Edmond-bury Godfrey kill'd himself after he was dead, they are Whiggs: and in fine, all that have not a small Veneration for the Triple Crown (now growing Mo∣dish) are Rank Whiggs.

Flash.

Gentlemen, shall not I come in for a snack a∣mong ye? I have a Puppet-show of Religion in me too. Gentlemen, let me know what it is you'll be at? I'm for any thing in the world to please ye: would you have me a Papist? Gentlemen, your humble Servant: would you have me a Mahometan? Gentlemen, I'm yours. A Jew, a Heathen, a No-Religion-man, one that shall Fear God, and Honour the King, and do neither? Gentlemen I am for who bids most; I love to be Complaisant.

Fly-blow.

Thou put'st me to a little kind of a puzzle: what art thou call'd? hast thou got never a Name as well as we?

Flash.

Yes, yes, they tell me I am a thin brass Protestant silver'd over; but for brevity sake though, they call me a Brumegeum, which is my Christian name, but my Sirname is Flash. At present my Religion is built mostly upon Interest; if that can but make me Rich and Great, I have as much as I desire in this world, without putting my self to the trouble of a thought for the next. I'm just like a piece of soft wax, and can (as a Conscientious man should do) receive any impression of Religion that takes well with the Times.

Swift-heel.

Very well, if we can but unanimously agree and circumvent the Whiggs, we do our business, and shall once again set his Holiness a Cock horse upon his Mare Albion, till we tire the Jade with whip and spur, and make her bleed all over. Therefore it is first fit that with Sophistical printed Shams we amuze the Ignorant, and a∣maze the Wise, that with the Jesuitical Bellows of Conten∣tion, we may blow such a strife among them as may not easily be reconciled, and then come in our selves and seize the long-expected Prey.

Let us stop their ears,* 1.2 and close their eyes, and no question but we shall beget Consciences rotten enough among them to further our Designs; and that the irons

may heat red-hot, let us rub up old sores (like Billingsgate-scolds) and roar out Forty One and Forty Eight, which one would have believed had been buried in Oblivion; these things will breed Jealousies enough among them; and then using our Masters the Devils and the Popes Ma∣xime, Divide & impera, Divide and Rule them, we whip in to teaze them.

Fly-blow.

Aye, aye, let's whistle 'um once out of their senses, and make 'um believe that all honest Truths are Treason; that the man in the Moon can't drink Claret with∣out a pair of Spectacles on's nose; that 'tis impossible to see wood for trees; that Jack Adams was a Gentleman of high Extraction, and came in with the Conquerour; and then as the Begger rowls with his Doxie in Straw, let us rowl in our beloved Forty one and Forty eight, till we cannot get out of it again: With these infatuating whimsies we'll lull asleep the Unthinking Crowd, and shut up the Popish Plot in a Dark Lanthorn.

Swift-heel.

Aye, and then let us Hector all those that have had an unlucky hand in the Discovery of the Popish Plot, and ridicule them in Farces and Plays to render them visibly odious.

See-well.

Yes, yes, these strong convincing Arguments you cannot be without.

Fly-blow.

How now, Fel••ow, what are you?

See-well.

One that loves things should appear in their proper shapes and colours without any disguise: Those of your faculties say I'm a Whigg, and thereby you appear to be— True Fire-balls, stufft with Roman Saw-dust.

Swift-heel.

D—n ye, you Dog, are you a Whigg? now I warrant you this Son of a whore would not drink the Devils and the Popes Health for the world.

Fly-blow.

Are you a Whigg d'ye say? pray get you gone out of our Company, we are no company for Whiggs.

Swift-heel.

No, no, we'll make him stay, to serve him as we would have done the Fellow t'other day at the Horse-shooe Tavern.

See-well.

Gentlemen, I fear you not, do your worst, it will make your Cause look but the more rusty; e'en let Mr. Swift-heel lay about him as long as he pleaseth, and let him still continue to play the Troublesom Lawyer, the Busie Statesman, and the Conscientious Divine, when Truth will at last shine him out of Countenance. Let e∣very Sessions of Parliament make Mr. Swift-heel mend his pace, and troop off to Terra Incognita, and then let him when the question is asked him why he went, in a civil railing way, cry out, He needs must go whom the Devil drives.

From these things sprung the horrid Story Of Worry'd Whigg, and Hectoring Tory.

Swift-heel.

You Rogue, I'le saw your wind-pipe, how dare you prate thus against Loyalty and true Religion?

See-well.

Yes, yes, you are true Promoters of True Re∣ligion indeed, and Loyalty too, when under the mask of the latter, you endeavour to supplant both, to advance the Interest of Rome: it is easily seen without a Magnify∣ing-glass.

But sure that gaudy painted Whore that hath so long been pepper'd with the Pox of Pride, Cruelty, and all the enormities that man may call Horrid and Superstitious, will never be Suffered to Spread her Pettycoats on Eng∣lish ground more; her Adorers have made her false Charms too loud a talk already, and her Antiquity which her hum∣ble Servants plead to prove her true blue, showeth her to have been a Jilt so long, that now with her Stinking breath, she's grown old enough for baud.

Swift-heel.

Sirrah, I'll have you up in my next weeks Pamphlet for talking at this rate, if You be not so kind to your self as to hold your peace.

Swift-heel.

Sir, I ever was a freind to Truth, and shall never be afraid of you, nor ashamed of her; and will there∣fore proceed for all your huffing. Another Instrument em∣ployed to Sow these corns of Division is, the merry Phi∣losopher in a yellow Dublet; he Trumpets it out, and is so pert and witty, that he allarms both Town and Coun∣try; it fumes from his brain like powder-flashes, like A¦larm fulmens; it hisses and sings, it drolls and laughs, shuts Truth out at the back-door, hits nothing at all, but melts away invisibly into air at last.

Fly-blow.

What a Whiggish Rogue this is; it is not to be endured, he grows impudent, to abuse thus a whole Ca∣bal of wits and Sticklers for the Church of England!

See-well.

A Company of very pretty Church-Pillars; there's one more too who now in's latter dayes had rather play at small game than stand out; it is a thin brass Prote∣stant too, God knows, and will write you any thing, on a∣ny side for his hire; he hath a Steel witt, and a puff-paste Conscience. But that which encreaseth my wonder is, that his great Courage should from an overgrown Poet stoop to a paltry Pamphleteer! that he should Heroickly cry down Truth, and put a gloss upon vice! that he should talk of Loyalty to Princes, and of True Religion, when in the days of yore he car'd for neither.

Swift-heel.

How rank this Rogue smells of Whiggism!

See-well.

There's that blather of Wind too, Ruffian Shallow-brain, The Loyal Lyar, that hath blown himself into a Bulk that's monstrous, by getting lyes neatly dressed in Popish garments, and owning them afterwards for the froth of his own Brain. He can neither Slander nor Lye, but it must be in True Pontificalibus; for put him but once out of that Road, and he's undone as a Monkey with∣out a bauble to play with.

Swift-heel.

Who is this you abuse thus, Sirrah?

See-well.

One that would fain be esteemed an Eminent

Coxcomb, if you please; yet the Pope hath not thought him fit for a Plotter, because his Head is a little too light, being stuffed with Feathers in hair of Brains: But he is grown an excellent Plot-Spoyler for his Holiness, yet con∣tinues in his Grace and Favour, and serves indifferently well for a Scullion to turn the Spit while the Plot's a roa∣sting, and hath had it most ingeniously put into his noddle to melt the Butter of the Popish Plot, to make it fit sauce for a Protestant Plot; a Meal-Tub is an Ass to this; he must be a better Conjurer than either Fry∣ar Bacon, or Doctor Faustus was, to make a man kill him∣self twice; he may chance to find an Irish Evidence to swear to it in some by-corner of Hell, unless to save him that journey at present, he lights of two good ones in this world with bloudy Consciences, and copper Faces cast in the Devils Mould, which one would think are, (or should be) scarce among professors of Christianity.

Fly-blow.

Let's hear him no more, he's the Cursedst Whigg that ever talk'd with a Tongue.

Swift-heel.

Yes, let's hear the Rogue, to laugh at him afterwards.

Flow-blow.

Well, go on now with your Copper faces, if you can say any more.

See-well.

Truly, truly, this Ruffian Shallow-brain is ve∣ry much out, unless his Friend the Devil instructs him at another rate; shall such a low-bred Tool as he go to Ar∣raign the Justice of a whole Nation? are men so sensless to think that such a lump of knavish Folly is able to fool them thus? No, no, prithee, good Shallow-brain, comb out thy hair, wash thy face and hands clean, and pull out thy handkerchif and blow thy nose; take good store of snush, it will clear your head, and be sure meddle no more with things out of your Sphere, lest you grow not worth the value of a fit of Laughter; but drink good store of Coffee to settle your Brain a little; burn all your Intel∣ligences, and then never fear Bedlam, man.

Swift-heel.

Pray what reason should he have to prove a certain person kill'd himself, unless it were true?

See-well.

A great many: in the first place, golden Promi∣mises, with something of substance in hand. Secondly, it conjures the Popish Plot into the Red Sea, and presently raiseth a more conspicuous Protestant Plot. But I think Heaven (that will suffer no unjust thing) hath by this means opened the Jaws of that Beast the Popish Plot, a great deal wider to be look'd into, than it was before. But I am going to talk to you of Clock-work, and all long of this fellow. I tell you then that the little wheels of a Clock have their circular motion caused by the great wheels, which else of themselves could not in any manner move.

Flow-blow.

What's this to the purpose? talk to us no more of your Clock-work, but get you gone out of our Company.

See-well.

I will say but one thing more for the benefit of Mr. Shallow-brain, and then I am gone. It is somthing that may help to fill up his next Intelligence: but if you could, I would fain have you promise me for him it shall be his last.

Fly-Blow.

We dare not undertake for him, but we'll en∣deavour to perswade him, therefore pray let us hear it.

See-well.

You shall. About a fortnight or three weeks ago, as near as I can guess (write it down, that you may send it him by the Penny-Post) the Emperour of Lapland sent the French King Thirty thousand slow-pac'd Lapland Horses, in a Fleet of Lapland Egg-shells, to be landed at the mouth of the Tyber, and from thence to march and be∣siege the outside of the Walls of Rome.

Fly-blow.

Well, we will tell him this News.

Cross truth.

Now this Heretical Villain hath done, pray, Gentlemen, let me have a word with you.

Fly blow.

What are you, Sir?

Cross-Truth.

My Name is Cross-Truth, Gentlemen, and by Profession I am a Rogan, (I mean) a Roman Catholick.

See-well.

That is to say, A Titular Christian in Scarlet Nonsence. And so your humble servant, adieu.

Swift-heel.

I'm glad he's gone, Sir: I must crave the ho∣nour of an embrace from you, for none can rejoyce more in your good Company than my self.

Fly-blow.

I honour him not onely for his accomplish∣ments, but for the soundness of his Principles.

Cross-Truth.

Gentlemen, I merit no part of these praises.

Swift-heel.

We know what we say, Sir; but waving these Complements, let us retire to yonder cool Arbour, where we will entreat Mr. Cross-Truth to oblige us with some sto∣ries of his Travels.

Cross-Truth.

With all my heart, Gentlemen, any thing to serve you; you know I am by birth a French-man, and I have made it my business to Travel many a thousand miles, to be a thorow-pac'd Roman Catholick; that a Whiff from a Hugonots breath, may neither disturb my Nostrils, my Brain, nor my Conscience.

Swift-heel.

I'le assure you, Mr. Cross-Truth, we ever had a great respect and veneration for all those who are of your honest Principles, because we know you to be firm and re∣solute in what you undertake; nay, you are cryed up for the onely Loyal persons in a Christian Nation; besides, your way to Heaven is strowed with Roses and Violets, while the Hereticks Road is full of nothing but Thorns, Thistles, and Bryars; so that there's no travelling that Road without tearing ones cloaths, and scratching ones face and hands.

Cross-Truth.

The Hereticks are the most grievous sort of Infidels under the Sun and Moon; they laugh at our Sa∣cred Miracles, and cry them down as so many Unsanctified Follies, and Comical Romances: But you shall see that by the strength of Catholick Simile's, I will satisfie any man

that hath no scrupulous Conscience, and but a tolerable deal of Faith in him, laying aside that pernicious Book the Bible, (without which we can do nothing.) Now I will begin with a Simile for that: As to stare upon the Body of the Sun when it shines bright, will bereave you of your Sight, and disturb your Head; so to read in that pestilent Book, will so blind the eyes of your Understanding, that you will gradually forsake Mother Church to turn a Northern Heretick, and so make hast to be damn'd. This excellent, Doctrine was preached in a Church at Rouen in my hearing.

Fly-blow.

This is excellent indeed! Come, I know you are going to tell us something that's beyond it; pray pro∣ceed then.

Cross-truth.

Know, there are eleven Miracles to be con∣sidered in our Sacrament of the Altar (of which I shall reckon two or three, but not all) for them we can render no other reason than a few Simile's, which may serve indiffe∣rent well in lieu of Loyal Queries.

You know that the Bread in our Eucharist is daily Tran∣substantiated into the Body of God; and yet there is no augmentation or increasing in God.

I prove it by reason thus: If I know of any Secret, and divulge it to a great many, they then through my decla∣ration know it too; yet in me alone, or in my mind, there's never the more Augmentation for that.

Another is this: The Body of God is daily received and eaten, yet no part is diminished thereby. I have a si∣mile as right as my leg for that: If a thousand candles are lighted at my candle, my candle shall have never the less light for that.

I'll give you one or two more, and lock up the rest for another time: The Body of God, though it be taken and received of the wicked, is not therefore defiled: our Ca∣tholick Similie for it is this; The Sun, though is shines on a Dunghill, or any other unclean place, is not defiled or

made worse thereby: Know this too, that though the Bread be turned into the very substance of the Body of God, the accidents of the Bread still continue; that is to say, the Weight, the Colour,* 1.3 the Tast and Smell. Now if any one will be so kind as to help us to a simile for this, they will oblige us much; for as yet we have found none.

What tho the Hereticks call this Doctrine monstrously Blasphemous and unreasonable! if we say black is white, we ought to believe it, because the Church bids us do it.

Swift-heel.

Could I pull off my Mask handsomly, and di∣scover my self without danger, I should for my part be proud to own your Religion as the most true and ancient Doctrine: We may have good encouragement to promote it in this Northern spot, if we use but our endeavours to remove the Head of the Heretical power now in being, to make way for a good and famous Catholick Head, one that shall revenge the Wrongs those Hereticks have done us.

Cross-truth.

By the means of our labour and industry we need never to fear our hopes will dye, as long as his Ho∣liness Janizaries the Jesuits do but toyl and weary their Brains, together with his English Secretaries.

But to proceed again, if the Wine be frozen in the Cha∣lice after the Priest hath turned it into God, he must breath upon it (no matter whether his breath stinks or no) till it be melted and dissolved;* 1.4 and if that will not do, let him throw some hot coals in∣to't. He that hath received this Eucharist must also for∣bear to spit for a considerable time; afterwards with his conveniency he may spit, but it must be where the spittle may not be trod upon; as, in one of his Coat-pockets, or, unbuttoning his Coat, into his bosom: if a woman, let her spit in her Turning-up-pettycoat; for these are things of weight and moment, and ought to be maturely look'd in∣to.

It must not be chawed neither as other meat is, but must be softned with a great deal of discretion both with ••he Tongue and Teeth, that there may not a crum stick up∣on the Teeth, for fear it should chance to be cast out with ••pitting.

Fly-blow.

What man of sense could hear these admirable ••hings, and be out of love with so good a Religion, where Miracles do every day confirm the truth of it?

Cross-truth.

There are besides, several Penances that ••hose Priests are to endure who through negligence let any of this blessed Bloud (as we call it) drop upon the floor, which if it so happens, he must lick it up with his Tongue ••oo; or if he lets mice run away with the body of the God he hath made. I might descend to more particulars about this thing, were I not afraid of tireing you patience by being too Prolix; therefore I shall change the Scene, and discourse of that which is the prop to support the aking Head of our Church, as well as the greatest Comfort to the Souls of such as are deceased.

Swift-heel.

I suppose, Sir, you mean Purgatory?

Cross-truth.

The same; but whereabout it is, hath e∣ver been a dispute among the most knowing of us: though truth hath a perfect harmony and no discord, yet it may be the pleasure of Heaven to conceal the place from us, for reasons which we are not to examine. Some are of opinion that there is but a Slit-deal divides Purgatory from Hell,* 1.5 and that they are both of a floor under the earth. Others again say, that it is not near Hell, but in the Air, near the bo∣dy of the Sun, or the Torrid Zone; and that it is plac'd there for conveniency, for that it being near Heaven, the Souls may after they are purged immediately step over the Groundsell into Heaven, and save themselves the trouble∣some journey they would have had, had it been further off. There are also some that say it is neither near Heaven nor

Hell, but that the Souls are severally and diversly placed, some above, some below, some in the middle, every one as he deserves; and so accordingly some suffer more pain, and some less, according to their Crimes. Nay, the very motes and Atoms in the Sun, which are often seen moving in the Sun-beams in a Summers-day, are every one of them by some of our Learned Clergy believed to be Souls in Pur∣gatory.

Fly-blow.

What Excellent Divinity is this! I could hear him discourse all day methinks.

Cross-truth.

Now you must likewise know, that there are according to our Catholick Doctrine, three degrees of Souls that are departed; as first,* 1.6 your valde bonae Souls, that is to say, very good Souls. Secondly, your valde malae, which are very bad ones: and lastly, your mediocriter bonae; that is to say, meanly or indifferently good.

The very good Souls go directly to Heaven, without giving themselves the trouble of calling at Purgatory by the way; and consequently need no Masses to be said for them. Your very bad ones go directly to Hell, without the comfort of Purgatories burnings. The meanly good go to Purgatory, who for a good reward left in their Wills, or given in hand (perhaps half or all their Estate) after the Priest hath been terrifying them on their death-beds with the dreadful pains of Purgatory, which at that time induceth them to be the more liberal, (to be freed from such cruel Torments) they are glad to leave or give some∣thing to support the Church and Priesthood: then their sins are forgiven, and they by Expiatory Sacrifices are re∣lieved and helped. But those that are poor, are for the most part forced to stay longer in Purgatory than the rich, for want of being goldenly devout to the Church; and for the Souls that are meanly evil which go to Hell, our Religion hath found out ways to mitigate and lessen their

pains, that their Damnation may be more tolerable.

Fly-blow.

Then according to your Doctrine the rich shall secure Heaven, and shut the poor out.

Cross-truth.

Scoundrels, what should they do in such a dainty place? though our Crucified Lord saith, It is easier for a Camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of God; Yet I believe his Holiness knoweth better things, for I look upon him to be the wiser of the two.

* 1.7But I am now going to tell you a story about Purgatory: At a certain time when a Grego∣ry was a Pope of Rome, he had a Mother whom he most intirely loved, and she was esteemed a woman en∣dowed with the Vertue and Piety of Angels; but so it hap∣ned, that through much importunitie, and secret perswasi∣on, she was got with Child; and to save her holy Honour, when the time came, she murthered it. The same mis∣chance hapned a second time, and she likewise murthered that, and some time after died, in the opinion of all that knew her, a very Pious and Religious woman. But it hapned on a certain time when this Pope was saying Mass, a thick darkness like a starless night appeared just by him, and in the midst of it he could discern a gastly Figure with a most miserable, lean, pale, and sorrowful countenance: The Pope having conjured and demanded what it was, it surprizingly answered, O my dearly beloved Son, I am thy Mother. The Pope was amazed, for he really thought his Mother had been gone to Heaven as round as a Juglers box, and took upon him the boldness plainly to tell her so; but she, without mincing her words, told him the whole truth of the matter, (for it was not for her interest to tell a lye then) and that she was in such pain, that the very Pur∣gatory-flames came blazing out of her mouth; which the Pope saw well enough too, and was heartily troubled to see his Mother in such a condition, (for who could think

less?) and most civilly and dutifully asked her, whether a∣ny thing in the world could deliver her out of that pain? She told him that if any man will be so kind as to sing a Trental of Masses for her, she should be freed from pain, and go to Heaven without stop or stay. After the Pope had asked her what Masses they should be; and when she had told him, Mother, said he, trouble your head no further, I'll do't: so he commanded his Mother (which look'd a little odd) to meet him again at the very same time the year following: And indeed she obey'd her Sons Commands; for at that time when the Pope was singing Mass himself, he saw great Rays of light, and in the midst two Angels coming down to him with a beautiful Lady in a most Glo∣rious apparel between them; at first he took her for the Queen of Heaven, and fell at her feet, crying out, O Regi∣na Caeli, miserere animae matris meae; O Queen of Heaven, have mercy on my Mothers Soul: but she cryed out, Most dear Son, I am thy Mother, and am changed from what thou sawest me first, into this happy condition, and am going to Heaven with these two Heavenly Messengers. All this is done by the help of thy Masses and Prayers: Know also, dear Son, that all those who may be under those Circumstan∣ces as I was, or let their Crimes be greater, yet shall they by those very Masses I desired you to say for me, be saved, even as I am. So not forgetting to give her Son thanks for his kindness, away she went.

Fly-blow.

There's nothing under Heaven comparable to the vertues of the Mass.

Swift-heel.

No, nothing at all; therefore it is fit our in∣feriour Clergy should be better instructed.

Cross-truth.

But now, Gentlemen, I am go••••g to make it appear to you, that Purgatory may be diversly placed, according to the will and pleasure of Heaven, in the fol∣lowing story.

On a certain time (but whether it was in Winter or Sum∣mer,

I can't tell, for we don't stand upon seasons for a mi∣racle; some Fishermen casting their Nets, took up a great piece of Ice, and it was beyond all other Ice in coldness; nay, the very heat of the Sun was not capable of melting any part of it. After a great Contest among them, they carried it to the Bishop, who had got a great burning heat in his foot, (now whether it was his right foot or his left, my Author doth not say): while he was admiring the ex∣tream coldness of it, of a sudden a voice spoke thus to him out of the Ice; I am a Soul that suffereth Pennance in this Ice, and I have no friends that will be so kind to say Masses for me. I shall be freed from my pain, and thy foot shall be cured, if thou wilt but say Mass for me. (This was but civil, for one good turn requires another, and it shews that there's some breeding in Purgatory.) So the Bi∣shop took him at his word, and always when he said Mass, he laid the Ice under his foot, which by degrees melted till it was all consumed; so the Soul was delivered out of pain, and the Bishop was cured: and afterwards the Soul appeared to him, and told him, that by the help of his Masses he was got to Heaven; and I think it was extream kindly done of him, to come out of it again to tell him so.

Swift-heel.

The more I hear of these stories, the better it confirms me in the good opinion I have of your Religi∣on.

Cross-truth.

Then I will tell you another very good one:* 1.8 there was a certain man whose house stood by the side of a Church-yard, so that his door opened to the Church; and it was his custom, that when he went out or in, to say a Prayer for all Christian souls; the same as we call De Profundis. Once as he was coming home, he hapned to be pursued by enemies: But coming to the Church-yard he kneeled down, and was going to his aforesaid Devotion, and his enemies were al∣most

most got at him, when most miraculously, and to manifest their gratitude to one that was so good to all Christia•• Souls, the dead bodies in a trice got all of them up out o•• their Graves; and each of them armed with the Instru¦ment he usually worked with when he was alive; as the Baker with his Peal, the Smith with his Hammer, the Coach-man with his Whip, the Country-man with his Pitchfork, the Labourer with his Spade and Pickax, and the rest accordingly. In fine, they drove away the mans enemies, and were the cause of their becoming Converts, for ever after they would commonly pray for the delive∣rance of Souls out of Purgatory.

Fly-blow.

Heaven is not so kind to manifest such Mira∣cles to the Hereticks.

Cross-truth.

No, no, they are the wretches the merit our Curses. But you shall hear one miraculous Purgatory-Story more, and then we'll shut up its Gates, and go some∣where else. There was a certain Knight who was going to a Battle, (attended with a Squire as I suppose) and had a kinsman he loved extremely, of whom he desired (if he hapned to be kill'd in the Fight) that he should sell his Horse, and distribute what he had for it among the poor to say prayers for all Christian souls. The Knight was kill'd as dead as a door-nail, and his Couzen having a great honour and respect for the Horse (whether it was for the horses own sake, or for his that it did belong to, I do not know) performed not the fighting Knights will, but took the horse to his own use.* 1.9 'Tis said that in some time after, the Knight appeared to him (but whether it was he himself, or some body else in his cloaths, I cannot resolve you) but the thing that appeared had a voice which sounded in this manner to him: For my horse I have been burning these eight dayes in Purgatory, and therefore the Vengeance of Heaven will light upon thee, this day thy Soul shall go to the Devils in hell, (a damnable

sort of Comfort from a Couzen) Et ego purgatus vado in Regnum Dei, and I Being purged go to the Kingdom of Heaven. Now after what manner he came to be Purged, is a weighty dispute among the Learned; because we can∣not hear what friend he had to stick by him in the world to say Masses for his Soul: But in fine, the cruel words were no sooner out of the unkind Couzens mouth, but the Devils made a horrible din and roaring in the Air; and at last carried this man away; but whether he was carried a foot or a horse-back my Author doth not say.

Swift-heel.

These things are able to confound the most obstinate.

Cross-truth.

Now, Gentlemen, I will give you a tast of the Wonders and Relicks I have seen and heard of in my Travels, as well in Jerusalem as in Italy.

In a Church called L' Anonciade in Florence are a great many Signs and Miracles done by the Intercession of the Virgin Mary, who is there invoked: and 'tis swallowed down for an infallible Truth among us Catholicks, That the Figure of the Virgin Mary set up to be prayed to in that Church, was done by St. Lukes own hand; though some boldly say that it was then when he had little else to do.

Parting once from Sienna I came to a Lake called Bol∣sena, and to a Castle that bears the same Name, where the Body of St. Christina is adored, who being cast into this Lake walked miraculously out again, and had no injury at all done to her; nay, some say her very Cloaths were not wetted. Had this Miracle been done in England, her Saintship might have been burned for a Witch perhaps.

In the very same place another Miracle hapned; the Consecrated Host or Wafer being held in the hand of a Priest who doubt whether it was the true Body of God or no, got of its own accord publickly out of his hands, and caper'd and jump'd from place to place upon some

Marble stones, where it left marks and signs of blood, which are to be seen at this day.

Swift-heel.

But was you never at Rome, Sir?

Cross-truth.

Yes, and I am going to tell you what I saw there.

Swift-heel.

Did you see his Holiness?

Cross-truth.

Yes sure, or else I had been an undutiful Son to Mother-Church; And by and by I will give you a Relation of the Order and Ceremonies used when his Ho∣liness goes to Chappel and about the City: But first let me proceed to give you an account of the Miracles and Re∣licks to be seen and done there.

Upon Mount Aventine in Rome is the Church of Saint Alexis, wherein is the Image of the Virgin Mary, which Image once spoke to a Prior but in what Language I know not) who for want of true Catholick breeding most uncivilly denyed the aforesaid Saint entrance: the words it spoke were these: Open and let Alexis enter, for he is worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Upon Mount Viminal stands the Church of St. Laurence,* 1.10 where all clear-sighted peo∣ple that come there, may see (if they can) a piece of the Gridiron upon which he was broyled. And in the Church of St. Jean de Latran you may both see and feel the Chains (nay, and believe 'um to be so too, if you will) that Saint John the Evanglist was bound with, when he was carried from Ephesus to Rome;* 1.11 toge∣ther with an old Coat of his, that raised three persons from the dead.

And you may likewise see some of the Virgin Mary's old Cloaths, with a Shirt she made for her Son; and some of the wood of the Cross whereon Christ suffered. Ad∣joyning to the Church is a Chappel wherein are a multi∣tude of Relicks, as the Altar that St. John the Baptist had

when he was in the Desart: Moses Rod, and Aarons Pa∣••oral Saff: Moses Rod is also to be seen in several other ••laces in the world, but no matter for that.

Fly-blow.

By visiting these blessed Relicks, I suppose ••ou gain Pardons and Indulgences.

Cross truth.

Yes; and I will now step into the Holy and, and give you an account of some of them.

The Pope alloweth us for visiting the Chappel in Jeru∣••alem, where Saint John the Evangelist (as we say) Cele∣brated the Mass of our Lady,* 1.12 Pardons and Indul∣gences for seven years.

We have allowed us at Mount Calvary, where the Cross was planted, and our Saviour Crucified, a Plenary In∣dulgence.

For visiting the Temple of Solomon, where we say the Virgin Mary had her breeding and education, a Plenary Indulgence.

In Herods house, where our Saviour was reviled, the same, and the same at the Virgin Mary's own house.

Fly blow.

But how do you know these to be such and such places and things?

Cross-truth.

By the very countenance of them, by our holy Traditions; because the Church tyes up our Faith in them, and by the wonderful and manifold Miracles that are daily wrought in those places. But to satisfie your Curiosities further.

There is in the Holy Land a whitish and glutinous sort of Earth, with which the Grecians, and other of those Eastern Nations, make Crowns and Pater Nosters to sell to Pilgrims. And this is the very self-same Earth wherewith God Almighty made our first Father Saint Adam.

Swift-heel.

Pray who made him a Saint?

Cross-truth.

I may be mistaken, but I think I am not, for if he is not, he ought to be one; pray why may not he be a Saint as well as Saint Valentine, St. Orson, and St

Paradiso at Rome? However, I will look over my Calen∣der of Saints by and by, and then I will give you full satis∣faction.

But pray let's make no more digressions. As I was coming from Jerusalem, I went to see a City called Baruth, scituated by the Sea, and there I saw a Chappel where the Jews once scourged and crucified a Crucifix, which fee∣ling the blows it received, fell most miraculously a bleeding (whether the Crucifix was made of wood or stone, I have forgot) but it converted the Jews, and turned them into Roman Catholicks of the True Stamp; and the Blood which came from the wooden or stone Images wounds was most carefully gathered up, and sent as a precious Re∣lick to divers parts of Christendom, where it had the pow∣er to heal a great many sorts of Diseases. Nay, not far from this City is the very place where Saint George killed the Dragon (whose History is most excellently compiled in your English Penny-volumes) that would have devoured the King of Baruths Daughter: together with the Cave wherein the Dragon dwelt, and the Ditch wherein he was put after he was killed, where his precious Bones are to be seen to this day.

There was once in the Gulph of Satellia, through which I sailed, a Monster that made the Seas so rough and stormy, that all Ships were drowned that ventured to pass that way; which story coming to the knowledge of her Lady∣ship Saint Helena, as she was going to Jerusalem she threw one of the Nails into the Sea that had fastned our Saviour to the Cross, so that by the help of her Prayers, and the virtue of that Nail, the Monster died, and (as we say) the Sea hath never been so tempestuous since.

Now having given you a succinct account of many emi∣nent and notorious wonders relating to our Catholick Church, I shall here cut off that discourse, because I would not trouble your ears too much with one thing, and re∣late

to you in what pious Grandeur the Most Holy and Right Reverend Head of our Church is Christianly ho∣noured and adored by all holy Catholicks.

This is he, that hath the two mighty Swords, the Tem∣poral and Spiritual.

This is he, who is more Infallible, and whose Word is more a Law, than the word of any Saviour, Angel, he or she Saint whatsoever.

What my eyes have seen, this Paper will particularly inform you; and to satisfie your Curiosity, be pleased to read it.

Swift-heel.

Sir, your most obliged Servant, I will read it out, that these other Gentlemen may hear it:

A True Relation of the Order and Ceremonies used when His Holiness is conveyed about the City of Rome, and when he goeth to the Church of St. Peter.

His Pages and others of his Domestick Servants apparel∣led in his Livery march first, leading a Lone Horse; a Mule and a Horse-litter followeth, carried by two little white Mules well harnessed, and adorned with Crimson velvet, as is the first horse and mule. Then the Switzers of his Guard march two and two, followed by some of his Noble∣men and Cavaliers well mounted: Afterwards comes his Officers and Chamberlains on horse back, wearing square Caps. Then comes he that bears the Cross before his Ho∣liness, and the Master of the Ceremonies, who, as he goeth, cryeth out, Abassa, Abassa, that is to say, Down, Gentle∣men, fall down, to give notice to every body to put their knee to the ground, that in that most humble posture they may be ready to receive the Divine Blessing of their Spiri∣tual Mortal God and holy Father the Pope: Who being in his Horse-litter covered with Crimson velvet, scorns to be nice of his precious Benediction, but throws it away to

all the crowd about him. On each side of his Litter walk two Pages bare headed, as well to conduct and guide the Mules that carry him, as to be ready to receive his Commands when he hath occasion. After these comes the Cardinals mounted on their Mules most gallantly accou∣tred, who are followed by the Archbishops, the Bishops, and other eminent Officers of the Clergy: His Light-horse∣men bring up the Rere, who are well mounted and armed. In this order being come to his Palace-gate, he turns about to the people, and in giving them leave to depart, is also very bountiful again in bestowing his Blessing on them.

But when his Holiness goeth to St. Peters Church, then there's a great deal more to do

All the Cardinals (who are above fifty) go to wait on him at his Palace, from whence in couples they march to take their places in the Church. His Holiness comes next seated in a kind of a Chair of State or moving Throne, beautified with Crimson-velvet, and his Triple Crown on his head sparkling with precious Stones; and he is car∣ried on the shoulders of eight men dressed in Red. There walks also on each side of him a man in Red, who have each of them a sort of Fan in his hand, fastned to the end of a gilded Staff, composed of Feathers plucked from the most curious Birds. Being carried in this pomp, four of his Trumpets continue to sound till he hath taken his Seat in the Church, which is raised upon six steps; where when he is mounted, every one very formally according to his de∣gree and quality takes his place.

After a great many ceremonies are past, the Cardinals go to render their obedience to his Holiness, by kissing the right side of his Cope (for there it is they always kiss, the Bishops his knee, and all the rest of the Christian world (if they will) his Pantofle;) so he that is to make the short Sermon, is brought to the Popes feet to kiss his Pan∣tofle,

or Slipper, and receive the comfort of his Blessing before he sets his foot in the Pulpit. Then the Cardinal that saith Mass, approacheth the Altar to make ready the Incense, which is afterwards given to the Pope, and all the Cardinals with a great deal of Ceremony; for he that re∣ceives first, makes a reverend bow to his Neighbour Car∣dinal, the second to the third, the third to the fourth, and so it goes as round as a hoop, thorow them all; (now whe∣ther they bow thus for Devotion, or to show their Man∣ners, I cannot tell) and after the sound of Pax tecum is gone round to one another, and the Mass being done, the Pope gives them his Blessing once more, and then returns ••o his Palace, in the same manner he came from it.

Cross-Truth.

Now Gentlemen I imagine you begin to be tired, and the Sun is set, so that I believe it will be ne∣cessary to reserve the rest for another time, and walk in before the dew falls too fast upon us.

Swift-heel.

More for your own ease than ours, we submit to you in this, as we are ready to do in every thing else: for such pleasant truths can tire none but insipid Here∣ticks.

See-well.

A Hodge-Podge of very pretty truths indeed, 'tis just like Mr. Swift-heels chopping of rusty Logick; and what can be expected from the fundament of a Jesuit but such Excrements? as I stood behind the Arbour, Gentlemen, I had the honour to hear all your admirable Miracles, but I had no power to conceal my self longer.

Swift-heel.

Is he come again to torment us? what an unheard-of impudence is this? Sir, I have a good mind to break your pate with my Fiddle.

See-well.

What would you make a Musical pate on't, and fill it full of Crotchets and Quavers like your own? you are grown too old to fight, unless you make your Pen your Quarter-staff; and with that you play but false strokes too, you never hit the substantial part of any thing, but

like the brushing of a mans cloaths, you move onely about the out-side.

Swift-heel.

What, you would infer from this, that I leave the most material part of any thing unanswered, and onely pick out what may serve a* 2.1 Turn, &c.

See-well.

Yes; and for excuse your Admirers cry for you, you enter the Lists every week, so that 'tis impossible for a man of your business to be so exact. And what is this mighty business, but to make sophistical Traps to catch Tory-woodcocks in?

You are according to the Rules of Jesuitism to raise feuds and heats among people, to aggravate and screw things to such a pitch, that you and your gang may be ready to be upon the catch to pick holes in the Whiggs coats. You are sometimes to rail, and make a grievous noise, to wrest and tear the letter of the Law from its true sense and meaning, as your Masters the Papists do the Law of God. The Torrent of Reason you are to turn a quite contrary way; you are to pretend to know an Authors meaning by his gaping, yet explain it otherwise.

Swift-heel.

How do you prove these things?

See-well.

In time it may be made fully appear: you in opprobrious Language (which had it been used to Carmen might have passed perhaps) have endeavoured to sully Stars of the first Magnitude. But when the Sun shined strongly and powerfully upon them, then you beheld them (and dared not to do otherwise) with an awful Reve∣rence, and joyful Admiration. And now when apoyso∣nous Vapor, raised from the Popes stinking common Shores, deprives them of the Suns Light, you basely spurn at those could once have made you tremble; and to render them odious, use the fine terms of Rabble, nay, which is worse, Fools, Fops, Puppies and Rebells.

Swift-heel.

I deny all these things, I never said them in

my life; I have a good mind to take the Eucharist upon it ••oo.

See-well.

You are too full of talk to gain all the world ••o your side; yet you have taught your Pupills the Tories to cry out every where, The Whiggs Cause goeth down apace, it is almost broke; which is in plain terms to say, that Protestantism in general shall gradually be extirpated, and Legal, Loyal, Strict, Uncorrupted, Sacred, Trium∣phant, and Infallible Popery shine upon us like the light of a Rush-candle.

Swift-heel.

Sir, how dare you go to explain our mea∣ning? I say the Whiggs Cause shall go down right or wrong.

Had not your saucyness interrupted us, we had been gone out of the Garden before now.

See-well.

Gentlemen, I'll be your hindrance no longer; onely give me leave as we are walking out to tell you a Jewish story.

Swift-heel.

With all our hearts, we will have so much patience for once.

See-well.

It hath some semblance with your Golden-Le∣gend Miracles, therefore you would do well to get it inser∣ted; no doubt but it may pass as well as the rest.

At the sound of a certain Trumpet the Jews are all to be gathered together in the Holy-land, and there they are to make a great Feast; among other prodigious meats that are to be served up at this Banquet, is a great Bird, (and I think my Author saith it is to be roasted, but I dare not be positive in it). This great Bird laid an Egg so big, that by chance tumbling out of its Nest knocked down Three hundred tall Cedars, and breaking as it fell, drowned one hundred and threescore Villages, (my Author doth not say where the Nest was built) but the Bird stood up to the knees in the Sea, and the Sea was so deep that a hat∣chet would not fall to the bottom in seven years. There's

an end of my story, and so farewel, for I know you don't like my Company, and I care as little for yours.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Read Bishop Halls no Peace with Rome.
• * 1.2

  But to prevent a thorough blindness, read the 1st and 2d Part of the Tory-Plot.
• * 1.3

  Durandus in Rationale Divi∣norum officiorum.
• * 1.4

  Gulielmus Dur. in Rat. di. offi. lib. 4.
• * 1.5

  In Longobar∣dica Historia in Legenda aurea in vitis patrum.
• * 1.6

  Durand. in Rat: di. Offic. lib. 7.
• * 1.7

  Ex Missali Manuscripto Anno 1354.
• * 1.8

  In Legenda Aurea.
• * 1.9

  In Legenda Aurea.
• * 1.10

  My Lord Vil∣liamont Knight of the Order of St. John of Jeru∣salem, and Gen∣tleman Extraor∣dinary to the French King, An∣no 1620.
• * 1.11

  Translated from the French.
• * 1.12

  Ibidem.
• * 2.1

  To prove this, per∣use that ingenious piece The Character of a Po∣pish Successor.