%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A PARALLEL / BETWIXT / POPERY and PHANATICISM, / IN A / LETTER to T.S. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1685-1685 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/30/2012 32211

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R1355 I'M inform'd, your Royal Jurat / In 'lection was to be your Curate: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 133533 A PARALLEL / BETWIXT / POPERY and PHANATICISM, / IN A / LETTER to T.S. A PARALLEL BETWIXT POPERY and PHANATICISM, IN A LETTER to T.S. A PARALLEL BETWIXT POPERY and FANATICISM, IN A LETTER to T.S. 1685-1685 E. Poole

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/30/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America politics/ government religious groups Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/30/2012 3:25:02 PM XBallad Ly, Nancy Created XML Version of Ballad 4/30/2012 3:25:02 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 3:25:02 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 3:25:02 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristy Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/30/2012 3:25:02 PM Transcriptionist One Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/8/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/2/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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SIR, IM informd, your Royal Jurat In lection was to be your Curate: Im likewise told y are disappointed, By Mandate from the Lords Anointed. Your Congregation sure is Righteous Thats worth the care of Charles and Titus. Titus and Charles had had more fitness, For Charles is second with a Witness. But since he faild, let fancy help it, And well suppose him in your Pulpit, Which would have lookd, when he was got int, Like an Oat-Meal Tub, with a PLOT int: (To say who made the Plot, would rub, But sure some Cooper made the Tub) There might you hear him talk at once Sir, Geneva, London, Rome, and Munster; For all Religions in the Town Are cloakd in his Camelion Gown. For as the Ancients usd to scan Nine Taylors to one single Man; And others learnedly have writ, That thrice three Spinsters make one Wit: So he, though h left them all in lurches, Is Product of as many Churches. Tho some affirm, when theres but Nine, That neithers due to this Divine: However, hes esteemd by some The mighty Bulwark against Rome; Yet others say with cause enough, His Girdle onlys Cannon-Proof: Yet thats Defence enough for us, For hes all over Blunderbus. But Sir, since Arbitrary Power Hath useless made your Glass of hour, And laid Embargo upon O------ By luck we have retrievd his Notes; Which since he was denyd to preach, Took pet, and dwindled to a Speech. Behold the double Saviour of your Nation, Who daily preach and swear for your Salvation! Behold the wicked Priest, and Jesuit-taker! Behold the Kings most excellent Oath-maker, Who now comes down out of his endless Bounty, To raise new Vicegerents for your County! I have tryd all Religions once, some twice, Divd like an Indian for the Pearl of Price; Walkd like a Glow-worm by my Light within, Have learnt to eat my God, and stab my King: Only I never lovd the Quakers bauling, For fear indeed they should have spoild my Calling. I wish my stay at Omers had been shorter, For they ene usd me like a very Porter, To drink, and carry Letters; yet their steering Mended my hand a little in my swearing. At length in Englands Church I cast my Anchor, And there discoverd all the Jesuits Rancor, Ript up the Plot, prevented the Kings fall, Savd the ingrateful Lawn-sleeves (Rascals all);
Strung up some dozen of Ignatius Race, Sent Stafford to his own uncertain place: And when as one man they departed hence With all the Oaths and Vows of Innocence, I shewd the World their Mental Reservations, The Juggles of their Oaths and Protestations: In short, I pent mens Faith to that degree, They hardly would believe or them or me. That Church hath bin so traind with sense and reason, They hate implicite Faith as bad as Treason: Not that they doubt the Plot (for all their jeering,) But tis for better Reasons than my swearing. This mads my Soul; and I shall find a time To make them fall, unless they help me climb: With Oxford too Im at no less defiance, Who dirtily refusd me her Alliance, Till I could prove that Swearing was a Science; Whereas the very posture of the Actor Shews tis no Science, but a Manufacture. Theres nere a Gown-man but myself, I tell ye, Without a Legion of Popes ins Belly: Nay, in your godly Country re some Betrayers, For there Id like t have been trapand to Prayers, As if Id nought to do but sing or say; Twas but upon last Commination day, The silly Rat had baited Hooks with Hooks, Thinking to decoy me into Prayrs with Books. Besides, amongst all People but the Blades, Swearing and Cursing are two several Trades. But such an Insect in Divinity Cannot deserve an angry Thought from me, Who dare to grapple the whole Hierarchy. Mind they their Trade, and canvas Paul and Luke, I am above their Censure and Rebuke, Nor do I fear their friend your Loyal Duke. One single godly Speech of mine defid Your Princes Favourite, and your Countrys Pride. When I came ratling with a Coach and six, King Coels supream Burgesses to fix, I stumd the Mobile, and changd their Choices, And stalking with their Ears obtaind their Voices: By which he sees (if Heavn do not forbid) That I can undo all his Father did. But after all my most industrious searches, Sir Francis Draking, as it were the Churches, I find my subtle Masters told me true, They have no toppers of a Plot like you. At that, enragd, up starts a Loyal Youth, Quoth he, Sans swearing, thou hast once spoke truth: Th Religion (if thou hast it) is profound, And thou art turnd from Rome exactly round; Rome and Geneva are a sort of Twins, Sworn Sisters, and sworn Enemies to Kings: And for all you look so Protestantly big, Youre still a Papist Masquerade in Whig. Phanaticism is Popery improvd. Their bold Ignatius strikes to your Buchanan, Their Irish to your English Forty and One; Their Plots are bubbles to your late Intrigue, Your Covnant hath out-killd their holy League. A strange harmonious Discord there appears, Betwixt your darling Shibboleth, and theirs;
Touch but their Strings, and all your Octaves shake, And tho some ceremonious Jars you make, The Tybur disembogues into your Lake. So two false Gamesters quarrel when they meet A true, to blind and reinforce the Cheat. Ye both agree your Monarch to betray, Depose and Murder, tho a different way: Both level your Church-Censures at the Crown, Ye both pursue the King; but this Ile own, They pitch your Game, you fairly hunt it down. So have I seen a Royal Stag erewhile Fall by your Hounds that hath escapd their toyl; Nor must your Subjects fairer Quarter hope, Or from your single or the clusterd Pope; They must be Slaves to which soere prevails, And either roast, or stink to death in Gaols. No Age nor Sex but must his Censures share; They dart Anathemas, yet more severe, From their accumulative Porphry Chair: He, modest Man, but censures for your Faults; They damn for Cloths and Gestures, yea even Thoughts; And all the Choice ye have, unless ye turn, Must be a Halter to avoid an Urn, As if twere better to hang than burn. Not only th Ague, but all other Ills Are curd by th Jesuits Powder, and your Pills, By which ye purgd the Church, and scourd the Nation, In order to a thorough Reformation. Ye both assert with Apostolic Buff, Convince with Back-sword, and with Pistol-proof, And ominous Sulphur make your Reasons tough: Their Faith in Absolution makes them sin, Yours in Election hath as fruitful been. For wheres the difference, bating the Priests Fee, That God forgives, or that he will not see; Not that your Friends will Damn for six Pence less, Ye spend in Capons what ye save in Cash: Your Basons, Tankards, Caudle-Cups, and Spoons, Turn to as good account as Duckatoons. The service of their Church, and of your Cause, Blanches the breach of all the sacred Laws: Ye deal with Oaths as Potters with their Clay, Ye take them by the lump, and then essay To mould them for your turn; if that wont do, Ye break m strait, and fall to work with new. The only two that ever seemd to sham ye, Were theirs of Secrecy, and your Solemn Dam--me; Ye abhor Repentance both, even when ye dye, And your last Breath is spent in Perjury: For who with more Astonishment can look On their St. Coleman, than on your St. Cook? The Saints are much alike for all their din, For theirs forswear the Fact, and yours the Sin. Yere like a bad half Crown with one fair side, Whose loyal Stamp doth the base Metal hide, Th other will own the Brass, and justifie t, But by your edges ye may both be tryd. Hence Tories say, whether you rule the Isle, Or th Jesuits, is only Cross and Pile; But CHARLES they say hath bin too wisely bred, To venture them withs Cross, or you withs Head.
Printed for E. Poole.