%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A TALE of THE TUBBS or ROMES MASTER PEICE Defeated / If Englands Prayers be heard, and Senate sit; Down goes proud Rome, French Arms, and Northern Wit. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1679-1679 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/01/2012 32436

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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

R38282 O Unkind Devil, thus at last deceive me! / Stay till the Ale was out, and then to leave me: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 183928 A TALE of THE TUBBS or ROMES MASTER PEICE Defeated / If Englands Prayers be heard, and Senate sit; Down goes proud Rome, French Arms, and Northern Wit. A TALE of THE TUBBS or ROMES MASTER PEICE Defeated If Englands Prayers be heard, and Senate sit; Down goes proud Rome, French Arms, and Northern Wit. A TALE of THE TUBBS or ROME'S MASTERPIECE Defeated If England's Prayers be heard, and Senate sit; Down goes proud Rome, French Arms, and Northern Wit. 1679-1679 the Loyal Protestant

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The Ale-Tubs Complaint. O Unkind Devil, thus at last deceive me! Stay till the Ale was out, and then to leave me: Hath not my service greater been by odds, Than can be hopt from Bread and wooden Gods? See how our off-spring altogether strive, To keep the Ballance and the Ale alive, Although at Bottom, while perfidious you Tack to that Tripple Dogg and Damned Crew Of Loyalas, till they Us all undo: Sot that you are, to have a greater hope From a few Priests, and an old doting Pope, That their dry PLOTS, can ere your intrest further Than I have done, by Rapine, Whores, and Murder, Who by the Liquor of my musty Cell Hath sent you scores, nay hundreds, quick to Hell: You are ungrateful, thus to leave old Friends, And think Romes Vassals ere can make amends; Who when their work is done will Domineer; And swear that hell was meally mouthd for fear: Then turn your hand, and on our side it give, Or they will stave my Hogshead as I live, And so grow sober, then shall both ons pass, Ale for a Witch, thou Devil for an Asse. The Devil (or Jack on both sides) Reply. What Ails this Drunken Puppy to Complain, Thinks he I know not wheres my greatest gain: That Pack of Bandoggs, breed of Northern Tikes; Shall Teize the souls of all that us dislikes; Must my Vicegerent with his Tripple Crown By Empty Ale-Tubs ere be weighed down? No know I am wiser, Drunkards are but fools Unto this MEAL-TUB and his Holinesses Tools. Tis true, the Ale-Tub, is our friend we know, And oft from thence some Reeling to Hell go, But these can Ruine Kingdoms at a Blow. And where they Conquer, there the Herreticks feel, Far greater Torments than our whips of Steel We Exercise upon our Slaves below, Who (but for them) did nere such tortures know. Flay men alive, then forth their Bowels tear, Women rip up with Child, and on their Spear Mount their young Infants, while in blood they sprawl, The Catholicks way to quiet them that Bawl; Cities Consume with fire, Ravish Maid and Wife, Destroy by Poyson, Pistol, Burnings, Knife, With thousand other ways to End their hated Life.
But what is best of all: when they have done, They call this holy work: most Christian ------ Acted from pure zeal, and love so mild, Makes them as guiltless as the Unborn Child; Two Ave-marys, and one Pater-Nos ------ Will make amends for all, and quit the Cost Theyr daring sinners, of the Popes first Rate, With God himself they will Equivocate ------ By Breaden Gods they can Absolve a Lye ------ Nay by the Mass they dare do more than I, Not Tremble at, but mock the Deity. ------ Then cease to murmur, they shall bear the Bell For Damnd Designs, and PLOTS that out-does Hell. The Jesuits speak their merrits. Most Holy Father, we do much admire Your weighty Goodness, and your Reverend Sire, Whose helping hand doth for us turn the Scale, By him we have, and do, and shall prevail; Tis not Heavens Power that shall frustrate this Most Brave design, which in the MEAL-TUB is; Nor Presbyterians save their hated Throats, Now at the last, by a Damnd tell-tale Oats. If Hell (for Heaven we matter not) Conceal This Blest Intreague, by all our Gods the MEAL Shall have high honour, on our Altars that Made into Gods be worshipt smoaking hot. This matchless Treason, makes it holy all ------ White as from Tower scrapt, or West-ward Hall; This wonder-working Euchrist shall do more Than Jesuits Powder, Pentioner, or Whore, Or all the Baffled Plots we ere Contrivd before, Twill make the Herreticks all agast to see Themselves the Plotters, murdered Legally. And make us fat with Laughing, how they will Divided fall and one another Kill: ------ Tis holy sport to see their blood run down In every Channel of the Burned Town, While Changling Robin, Bugbear in the City, Dye the Green Ribbons Red; by Hell thats pretty: Then shall that Mote, in Northern eye be sped, After Exile calld back to lose his head. But these are scraps of what our TUB contains, And do these Coxcombs, with their addled Brains, Think ere to weigh us down with Ale and Grains? No Punies know, your Reeling throngs out-done, Weel make all England stagger eret be Long: But talkings Idle, lets to action come, And strike the stroak, may Ruine Christendom.
Sir William Waller to Col. Mansell. See Mansell where that Damned hellish Crew, Are plotting Murders, and begin with you; See heaven discovers unto thee and I Their horrid Treasons, hellbred Villany, Coucht in that pacquet brought by Willoughby. Oh Blessed God! whose mercies infinite Do yet preserve us from Eternal Night; Its thou alone whose heavenly goodness still Defends our Lives (almost) against our will, From these vile Plotters, Miscreants of Rome, Blood-thirsty Villains, Pests of Christendom. Direct me Heaven to take them in their toyl, And all their Treasons, and their plottings spoil. Lets in amongst them, Mansel, heres my hand, Ile lose my life to save my native Land. Tis done, says Mansel, brave Sir William; I In such a cause with you am proud to dye. Well make those Vermin know, we scorn their rage, Our nobler Souls dares Rome and Hell ingage. And if such manhood Reigneth in us two, What cant the Courage of our English do? But Ruine all its Foes, when once provokt thereto. Lets search that Pesthouse, where the Midwifes bred Who brings Romes Bastards and their Plots to bed, Methinks it looks, as if the Tower Beasts Had there some Prey on which they often feast. Tis there my Lady meets her trusty Steer; Some Newgate-Birds and Sir Examiner. Theres Stars amongst them whence young Tycho drew The Plots good fortune, but his own not knew; See how the Whores of either Sexes Tugg, While the Grand Bawde sits Brooding on the TUB, Well turn the Bottom upwards ere we go, Ile lay my Life theres Treason at his Toe. So off they fetch him, with his Tripple Crown, And threw the Crosier, and the MEAL-TUB down; Whence came such stuff the Devil, frighted, swore, He never saw such Princely stuff before, The West must yield the Belt unto the Nore: Thus England once more is delivered from Romes Rogues abroad, and Plotters here at home: Stand on your Guard, now hold your selves awake, Lest their next Plot (you careless) Napping take. Respice & Cave.
FINIS. Printed for the Loyal Protestant, at the Sign of the True Eng- lishman in Great Britain, Nov. 11. 1679.